The Good Doctor
by The Pen Vs The Sword
Summary: All Robotnik ever wanted to do was help the creatures of the world. Why could nobody recognize his genius and generous heart? Rated K for action. Reimagining of Robotnik's origins.
1. Chapter 1: Last Chance

**A/N:** So this is a little departure from the norm for us.

**Pen:** No romance? Finally.

It's sort of a reimagining of Robotnik's origins. So without further ado, Sword?

**Sword:** Robotnik and all other characters and material belong to Sega. Me and Pen belong to the author. Now let's get it started!

**Chapter 1- Last Chance**

The chirping of Flickies outside roused Robotnik from the edge of his sleep. Yet it was the delicate brushing of fur that fully awoke him. He opened his eyes slowly, coming face to face with an orange tabby cat. It stared at him and meowed. Then it rubbed its head under his chin.

"Good morning, Tesla," he said, stroking the cat's back. Underneath the fur, where there should be warm skin along the spine, there was cold metal. The silver lining continued all the way down the cat's length, encompassing the tail fully. In fact, the tail was nothing more than metal pieces linked together that _clicked! _ and _clacked! _with each swish.

Tesla meowed again. "Alright, alright," Robotnik said. "I'll get you some food." He yawned and sat up, scratching his sides. Then he headed to the kitchen, Tesla in tow.

Waiting for the pair was a yapping basset hound, its front legs encased in iron molds that looked like paws. It bounded up to Robotnik, jumping to his knee height. He smiled and scratched the hound's ears. "Morning, Copernicus. Hang on." He filled their water bowls and food dishes.

But unlike Copernicus, Tesla did not eat. The cat sat on its haunches and stared at Robotnik, continuing to meow. "What is it?" he asked. Then he examined the cat closer. Its tail was crooked and off-balance. "I see." He placed Tesla on the dining room table and retrieved his tools.

Holding his cat still, Robotnik used a screwdriver to tighten a few screws running along Tesla's back and tail. When he finished, the cat walked forward and came back. It purred and allowed Robotnik to pet it. "Feel better?" he asked, chuckling. Then Tesla hopped down to eat.

He checked his mail slot. _Bill, bill, bill, junk, bill_, he thought, shuffling through the letters. He opened a couple, daring to look at the exorbitant, demanding amounts that he simply did not have. Robotnik sighed. He angrily stuffed the mail into a desk drawer brimming with pink slips and final notices. He scowled at the unwanted papers flooding his life.

On the wall near his front door, hanging next to one of his doctorate degrees, was an old, faded photograph of his grandfather, Gerald. Standing beside the prestigious doctor was Robotnik's cousin, Maria. Robotnik smiled at the photograph. _I'm almost there, Grandfather. I'll make you proud today as a scientist._

He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and sat down to eat. But the doorbell interrupted his meal. Robotnik answered it. There was a young brunette standing there, hands behind her back. "Hello, Ivo," she said.

"Hello, Clarissa." He waved her inside. "Follow me."

They entered one of his back rooms where several animals of all kinds were, from snakes to hedgehogs to squirrels and more. Despite being the largest room in the small house, it was cramped with all the animals' food bowls and living areas. Robotnik had a little trouble squeezing his rotund figure inside, bumbling into a cage or dish here and there.

Against the wall was a bird cage housing Flickies. A green one chirped delightedly from it saw the two. Robotnik opened the cage and it hopped onto his outstretched finger.

"Now there's a couple of things I should tell you," he said, displaying the Flicky to Clarissa. "Petey can still fly, but his wing moves a little awkwardly. So don't let him fly for too long." He lifted the right wing, showing the silver plating beneath the bright green feathers. "Also, try not to press the plating as it could damage it. Other than that, he should be right as rain."

"Thank you so much," she said. Much to their surprise, Petey flew onto her shoulder. They enjoyed a good laugh as the bird nipped at her ear. "How much do I owe you?"

"Er, well," Robotnik said, scratching his scalp. "Don't worry about that."

She crossed her arms. "Ivo, don't be like that. I'm going to pay. Now how much?" She started to pull out her money, but when she added up all she had, it was nowhere near enough to cover the labor and materials. Being her neighbor, Robotnik knew her income was worse than his. Although she only had to provide for one animal. Even though she had declared she would scrimp and save to pay for Petey, there was no chance she could hope to come close to the real cost.

Therefore, Robotnik twirled his mustache and said, "Just two hundred. That'll be fine."

She looked skeptical, but handed over half of the money. He thumbed through it. _Should be enough to cover the food for another month. For me and the animals_, he thought. But the rent and other bills- he glanced at the front door where he had left the mail. _I hope something comes up._

"Thank you again, Ivo," Clarissa said, scratching Petey under the chin. "Without you, Petey would've- well, I'd rather not think about it." She hugged him and left, letting herself out the door.

Robotnik heaved a heavy sigh and gazed at the various animals, all sporting a custom, hand-built prosthetic of some kind to aid them. A few of the animals were staring up at him as he ran a hand through his nonexistent hair. _It's not fair_, he thought. He tended to the animals, straightening their living areas and checking their dishes. _No money, no one recognizes my talent, and all my effort to shelter these poor creatures is rewarded with monetary demands._ He stopped just short of blaming Clarissa too. _No, no. Pull it together, Ivo. It's not her fault. She paid what she could. Acts of kindness may be returned greater. You can do it, Ivo. Today's your chance._

His beady eyes roamed to a particular cage where a hedgehog laid. The brown little creature was snoozing on a blanket until Robotnik picked him up. In the room's light, one could see that where its appendages should be, there were stubs wrapped in bandages. "Good morning, Gregory."

Gregory yawned softly and opened his eyes. Robotnik carried him to the kitchen and set him on the table. Like many of the homeless and defenseless animals Robotnik had taken in over the years, he had tried to replace Gregory's arms and legs as best as possible. Each time ended in failure.

But recently, he had created the perfect vessel for Gregory to use. He set his creation on the table next to the hedgehog. Gregory sniffed the round case, large enough for a small creature to sit in. The black, red-trimmed case had two rounded arms on its sides that could only move in up and down slicing gestures. The entire thing balanced on a single wheel.

Robotnik slowly lowered Gregory into it. He would be lying if he said he was not nervous. Gregory was, to put it mildly, excitable. Loud noises, flashing lights, or anything unexpected could frighten him. Robotnik had tried his best to calm Gregory's nerves when using the device. He had been able to acclimate the hedgehog to using the vehicle without being scared, but Robotnik still wished another animal, any animal, was in need of it.

Gregory sat in the snug seat. "Please behave today, Gregory." Then at Robotnik's commands, the hedgehog moved around the table. Robonik praised him with each order he obeyed. "Very good, Gregory!" He smiled, encouraging the hedgehog. He turned on the television, switching over to the news. A woman was reporting on the recent deeds of their newfound hero, Sonic the Hedgehog.

"The hostages were reunited with their families safe and sound. As for the pair that tried to rob the bank, well, they've learned there's a new hedgehog town. From all of us, we thank you, Sonic."

"Maybe someday, you'll be there saving people, Gregory," Robotnik chuckled. He scratched him behind the ears. Then he ran the hedgehog through the rest of the routine. When they finished, he clapped his hands. "Great! Now do it just like that today and everything will be fine." Robotnik lifted the hedgehog out of the mobile device and set him on his stomach. He ate his cereal as Gregory sniffed his clothes. Robotnik eyed the desk drawer with the bills. "Everything will be fine," he said, his hand trembling a little.

* * *

When he finished breakfast, he bid farewell to the animals. Then he gathered up his device into a bag and Gregory into a cage. Robotnik locked the door to his little home once outside and strode to the sidewalk. Although usually shrouded in dark from overhanging trees, his house's atmosphere appeared bright and sunny today. He took that as a good sign and briskly made his way to the bus station.

He arrived at work shortly before his shift started. He entered the building's laboratory, waving greetings to his co-workers. One was standing near the vending machines, wearing a hideous orange shirt with fish-print patterns underneath his white lab coat. "Good luck today, Ivo," he said through a mouthful of cookies. He scarfed down a handful of his snack.

"Thanks, Bruce," Robotnik said, waving back.

In his laboratory work space, he set aside Gregory and his device. Then he slipped into his own lab coat and a pair of white gloves. "So, Dean," he said, turning to a squat man with a pointed nose, "has Mr. Tindell arrived yet?"

"Not yet," Dean said, peering into a microscope. He adjusted the knobs on the side with his long, slender fingers. "Why? Oh, today's the big day, isn't it?"

"That's right," Robotnik said. He patted Gregory's cage. He glanced at a clock on the wall. "Well, Mr. Hughes said he would let me know by ten when to come in." He wrung his hands together nervously.

"Calm down," Dean said, jotting on a notepad. "You're too high-strung."

"I can't help it," Robotnik said. "This is my big chance. My last, big chance."

"Well, do you need help practicing? Want to run through it with me?" Dean asked.

"Oh, would you?" Robotnik beamed. "That would be perfect!" He dug through his bag and pulled out a set of index cards. Then he set out the device next to Gregory. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready when you are."

Robotnik cleared his throat. He shook his head. "Stop, stop," Dean said. He reached up, his hands only touching the taller man's hips. "Loosen up a little. Relax. _Relax._ You're going in there to give a demonstration, not perform surgery or something. Dial it down a notch. Just breathe deep. Okay?" He inhaled slowly, lifting his hand to his chest. Robotnik followed suit. "Now out." He puffed out, lowering his head. Robotnik's shoulders fell as he copied. "Again, in, deep breath. Now out. Better."

"Okay, thanks," Robotnik said. He cleared his throat again, feeling very relaxed. "Ladies and gentlemen of the board, it is an honor to meet you. For years, while we have advanced the area of prosthetics for humans everywhere, animal prosthetics have been sorely lacking. Little help is available for our dear friends and pets everywhere, if at all. In some extreme cases, that help is either too expensive or unavailable. Until today that is. I present to you the Ball-Mobile. The first prosthetic of its kind. Using its technology, animals too old or with damaged limbs could easily move around with the slightest impulse. The device reads their desired movements through the body-"

"Wait," Dean said, holding up a hand. "You'll need something more attention-grabbing than the 'Ball-Mobile'."

"What do you suggest then?"

Dean scratched his five o'clock shadow. "I don't know. Looks kind of like an egg to me."

"The Egg-Mobile?" Robotnik laughed. "That sounds like a breakfast vendor."

A man with large ears and a toothy smile stuck his head into the laboratory. "I hope you're not laughing about me," he said good-naturedly.

"Oh, hello Mr. Hughes," Robotnik said. "No, we weren't."

"Alright then," Hughes said, straightening his tie. He stood very tall above the two and was forced to duck to enter the lab. "I just came down to let you all know that Mr. Tindell has arrived. He'll be touring the building today, but don't worry." Hughes held up his hand to some of the frightened faces. "He's interested in what everyone's working on, that's all. No need for alarm. Carry on." Then he exited.

"Mr. Hughes," Robotnik said, following the man out of the laboratory.

"Yes, Ivo?"

"I was wondering when I might be able to demonstrate my invention," Robotnik said.

Hughes cocked an eyebrow, then snapped his fingers. "Oh, your invention. Of course, of course. I can't rightly say. Mr. Tindell's schedule is up in the air at the moment." He patted Robotnik's shoulder. "I'll do my best to squeeze you in when I can though, okay? So be on your toes."

"Thank you," he said. "For everything, I mean. I know I haven't been here long and I'm sure a blacklisted doctor wasn't your first choice."

"Ivo, Ivo." Hughes smiled. "Think nothing of it. Sure, you've had some misfortunes in the past, but that's because you're passionate about your work. You're a genius. We need that passion and intellect here." He guided Robotnik back to the laboratory. "Why, with your goodwill and creativity, I'm sure you will go far in this company. And today will be your first step."

Robotnik's chest swelled with pride. Hughes was right. This was a momentous day for him. If he could convince Tindell to approve the funding for his project, it would be the first of many accomplishments. He would receive a raise to pay his impending bills and support to help the animals at his house. Then Robotnik could render assistance to all the suffering pets and creatures worldwide. He would finally earn respect for his grandfather's name. It was everything he could have dreamed of. Everything would be brought to fruition by his demonstration.

"Thank you again," he said, shaking Hughes' hand vigorously.

"No problem," Hughes said. He waved farewell and walked off. "Just be ready for the demonstration."

* * *

The rest of the day dragged out for an eternity. Robotnik could not keep his eyes on his work. He continued to watch the clock, counting down the hours and hoping the following one would bring Hughes. When Tindell toured their laboratory, gazing through the windows, Robotnik nearly rushed out there to show his invention. But he restrained himself, patiently biding his time and reworking his pitch with Dean's help.

When only an hour was left in the day, his stomach began to tie itself in knots. He fretted that he may have been forgotten. He shrugged off the notion. Hughes had promised to fetch him when the time was right. Yet as the clock's hands inched closer to quitting time, his doubts grew. With half an hour left, Robotnik could no longer concentrate on his work.

_Maybe they have forgotten_, he thought. He wondered what he should do. Should he interrupt the tour? Remind Hughes that he was still waiting? It may be considered rude to do so and going over Hughes might be seen as inappropriate. Yet when his gaze returned to the clock, he set his mind to taking matters into his own hands. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._

He excused himself, gathering Gregory and his invention together. He took the elevator to the upper offices and found Hughes coming out of a room full of people. Tindell was among them.

"Ivo?" Hughes asked, shutting the door.

Robotnik waddled up to him, clutching his invention and the cage to his chest. "I'm ready to show Mr. Tindell my invention," he said. He set down the cage and took Gregory out.

"Ivo, I'm afraid there's been a change of plans," Hughes said. He laid his hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Mr. Tindell doesn't have time today."

"W-What?" Robotnik asked. "But you said-"

"I know." Hughes nodded. "I know. I tried my best, but these things happen. You'll just have to try when Mr. Tindell comes back in six months for another tour."

Six months? In six months, he would be evicted, along with the sheltered animals. He choked on the answer. "Maybe I could arrange a meeting with him sooner?"

"I'm afraid not," Hughes said. "You know how busy Mr. Tindell is. He's backed up for the rest of the year and well into the next. Sorry, Ivo." He playfully tapped his chin with his fist. "Keep a stiff upper lip. There might be an opening next time."

Next time. Next time? He could not wait until next time. He had lost many an opportunity and failed more than he cared to keep track of. This was his last chance. _I won't be turned away. Not again. I'll make them see my genius._ He had to make this work. Not only for his sake, but for his grandfather and the animals too. He girded himself as Hughes headed back to the door. Robotnik burst in after him, Gregory in one hand and his invention in the other. Hughes was flustered and tried to remove him, but he would not leave without being heard.

"Mr. Tindell," Robotnik said, marching up to the older, bewildered gentleman. "My name is Ivo Robotnik and I have a wonderful product to show you. If you'll allow me to demonstrate." He smiled, setting his invention down on the table.

"Hughes, what is going on here?" Tindell asked.

Hughes bowed apologetically and grabbed Robotnik's shoulders. "I'm so sorry about this, sir. He's one of our employees. Quite the energetic go-getter, he is." He laughed awkwardly, convincing a few of the other people to join in.

Robotnik stood firm. "Unhand me! I need to show him!" He set up the device and shoved Gregory into it. But the hedgehog's leg stumps were quivering and he refused to stay put. The commotion had frightened him and he was snorting loudly. Robotnik grunted and detached his legs from the side, trying to prevent him from constantly crawling away. "Hold still, Gregory."

"Look," Tindell said, leaning back and clasping his hands, "Mr. Robotnik. I'm sure you have a wonderful product there. But I'm a very busy man. Go through Mr. Hughes and he'll arrange a better time for you to demonstrate your invention."

"But, sir, I-" Robotnik tried.

Tindell held up his hand. "I have already said my piece. Now please leave."

Robotnik was in such a state of shock that he hardly registered Hughes dragging him out of the room. Once outside, after having the invention and hedgehog foisted back into his arms, Hughes shut the door and scowled. "Have you lost your mind? Do you realize how close you are to getting fired?" He pointed a threatening finger at Robotnik's large nose. "If you go over me or step out of line like that again, then I will fire you so fast, your head will spin. Now unless the next paycheck you want to pick up is an unemployment check, I suggest you go home and stay out of my sight for the rest of the week."

With that Hughes left him standing there in the hall, pitifully cradling Gregory and the invention. Robotnik looked down at the small hedgehog, who was sadly looking up at him. He almost took out his welling anger on him. "Gregory," he said, the rage building for a large outburst. But when Gregory curled into a shivering ball, Robotnik decided against yelling. "It's okay. It's okay," he said, rubbing the hedgehog's back with his fingertip. "No need to be scared. It'll all be fine."

He shuffled down the hallway, taking the elevator to the lobby. As he headed for the exit, he paused. A sudden idea had occurred to him. _The parking garage._ Robotnik could catch Tindell there on the way to his car. He would have to be brief, but he was sure he could turn his demonstration into an elevator pitch of sorts.

He thought about waiting for Tindell to ride the elevator. Yet there was the risk Hughes would be there too. _The parking garage it is then._ He held Gregory up to his face. "Ready to give it another try?" The hedgehog purred softly. "Excellent. Let's go."

Robotnik staked out the parking garage. Unsure of what kind of car Tindell drove, he stayed beside the bottom entrance. He waited for hours, watching every employee leave. Gregory fell asleep in his arms. Robotnik was close to nodding off himself until he heard footsteps echoing in the parking garage. He glanced up and saw that Tindell had passed by without noticing him.

"Mr. Tindell!" Robotnik shouted, chasing after him. When the older man saw Robotnik running toward him, he fled. He raced up one of the staircases. "Wait! Mr. Tindell! Gregory," Robotnik said, shaking the hedgehog in the crook of his elbow. "Wake up! Wake up!"

The pursuit continued to the fourth floor. When Robotnik climbed the last stair, he was winded and close to toppling over. But he saw Tindell ahead. "Mr. Tindell! Wait!"

"Stay away from me!" Tindell said. He was very fast for his age. He stopped in front of a classic, white car and fumbled with the keys. Before he could open the door, Robotnik had caught up to him.

"Mr. Tindell! Please, a moment," Robotnik said, wheezing. He bent over, panting hard. He readied his invention and scooched Gregory into it. But the hedgehog was afraid. Gregory squirmed away and leapt from Robotnik's hand. He landed on Tindell's tie. When Tindell tried to brush him off, Gregory bit his finger.

"Agh!" Tindell winced and shook his hand. Robotnik dropped his invention and tried to help, ordering Gregory to stop. The hedgehog was in no mood to listen. As Tindell flailed, Gregory rolled up his arm. He fell upon the man's cheek and pricked him.

"No, Gregory!" Robotnik grabbed at him, but Gregory's quills were deeply buried in the skin. With much difficulty, Robotnik used his fingers to pry his pet's quills off. Gregory came loose and stung his gloved hand instead.

"Mr. Tindell, I am so sorry," Robotnik started, but he was interrupted by someone approaching.

"Mr. Tindell? Ivo?" Hughes said, stepping between them. "What is going on here? Sir, you're bleeding!" He took out a handkerchief and dabbed Tindell's cheek.

"You!" Tindell hissed, shoving his finger into Robotnik's face. "I want you to take that rat and yourself and clear out of here! You're fired! Security!" As if on cue, a security guard appeared beside them. "Escort him off the premises, along with his things! I never want to see him again!"

"No." Robotnik desperately turned to Hughes, but he was shaking his head and scowling.

"You screwed up," Hughes said. "I gave you a shot and this is what you do with it? Good job." He tended to Tindell as the security guard roughly grabbed Robotnik.

"But I didn't mean to." Yet Robotnik's protests were silenced as he was forced to the exit. He did not even notice the stinging pain in his hand. He was stunned. Absolutely floored by the horrible turn of events. This could not be happening. This had to be a dream. A bad dream.

Yet when he was pushed hard enough that he fell onto the pavement, he knew it was not. The security guard threatened him. "Don't come around here anymore or you'll have to answer to me." Then Robotnik was alone, sitting on the sidewalk outside the building he worked at. Or formerly worked at.

Millions of fears ran through his mind. Where would he go? How could he afford to live? How could he keep feeding the animals? Would he, a blacklisted doctor, be able to find another job? What would become of him and his animals? No answers came to him. He was sick to his stomach and dry heaved. At one point, a box of his belongings was tossed next to him, spilling onto the ground. Robotnik did not know what to do. He could not think straight. So he simply sat there for the longest time, his chest tightening while his fears devoured him.

**A/N:** Hope you're enjoying it so far.

**Sword:** I don't like where this is going…

**Pen:** I do.

Please, let us know what you think. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2: Necessity is the Mother of

**A/N:** Might as well not beat around the bush. Let's get right into this.

**Pen:** Right you are. Dr. Robotnik and all related characters belong to Sega. The story, Sword, and I belong to the author.

**Sword:** I'm scared, Pen. Hold me.

**Pen:** No.

**Chapter 2- Necessity is the Mother of Invention**

When Robotnik had finally broken out of his daze, he had gathered up his belongings and headed home. Once in his house, he put away Gregory and his things. He barely registered his actions and sat down at his dining room table. He buried his head in his arms, staying there all night.

For the next few days, he rarely moved. He fed the animals, but for the most part, he sat around. He did not know what to do. He had failed utterly and completely. By the time he had a visitor after a few days, the garbage had piled up, the dirty dishes were stacked high, and he smelled putrid. The door was unlocked, so his visitor strolled in. Robotnik did not wave to them or acknowledge their presence.

"Ivo?" Clarissa asked, squatting beside him. "Ivo? What happened?"

"I was fired," he mumbled.

"Fired? Why?"

He shook his head. He did not want to discuss it. All he wanted to do was stew in his misery.

But she would have none of it. She straightened him up and forced him to eat some canned food. He had nibbled tiny bits of food over the days, but nothing substantial. He had been wasting away. She washed some of his dishes and took out the trash while he ate.

When she came back, he had finished and pushed the plate away. "Now, what happened?" she asked.

With a heavy sigh, he told her about his demonstration and Tindell's reaction. After he finished, she patted his hand. "Ivo, it'll be alright. Something will come up."

"No, you don't understand," Robotnik said. "No company will touch me. I've already been blacklisted and the one place that would take me has kicked me to the curb. There's no other job I could get now that will help me afford all this." He waved a careless arm at the animals in the back room.

"What about your invention? The Ball-Mobile?" Clarissa asked. "Sell it to another company."

That was not a bad idea. Why had he not thought of that? Maybe he could earn a small royalty on his invention that would supplement an income from another job. It was certainly worth a try. _Now where did I put it?_ he wondered. He stood up, ready to search. Then he recalled that he had dropped it in the parking garage.

He slumped back down into his chair. "I don't have it anymore," he said. "I dropped it when I tried to pull Gregory off Mr. Tindell. By now, someone probably ran over it or threw it away. I certainly can't go back there."

"Maybe I can," Clarissa said. She left him alone, running out the door. Robotnik sat at the table, biding his time until she returned. A few hours later, she came back empty-handed. "I combed the place, but I didn't see it."

Robotnik buried his face in his hands. She touched his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm sure something will come up."

His mail slot opened and several letters were shoved in. Slowly, Robotnik gathered up the letters. They were all bills, all demanding immediate payment. The one that stuck out the most was his rent. The landlord threatened him with eviction.

He scowled at the letters and ripped them to pieces. He hurled the shredded letters into the trash and seethed. He was tired of being in debt, tired of his genius being cast aside, tired of nothing working out. There had to be some way to pay his bills, but he did not know of any way.

Clarissa grew more concerned for him, but he settled down. He assured her that he was fine and that she should be going. "Just because I don't have a job doesn't mean you should skip out on yours," he said. He guided her to the door and opened it.

She frowned. "Promise you'll call if you need any help, okay?"

"I'll be fine," he said. "Thanks for the offer."

Once she left, he sat down at his computer. For hours, Robotnik searched for job openings online. There were several promising positions, but none that paid nearly enough. He might have to get rid of some of the animals to make ends meet. But when night fell and he was feeding the animals their dinner, he knew he did not have the heart to abandon any of them. Nobody would want a broken animal that needed the amount of care they did. These creatures needed his help. They and many other animals needed him to heal them.

His eyes turned to Gregory. He pursed his lips and kneeled down to the hedgehog. "You," he said lowly. "You. If you had just stayed calm, everything would have been alright!" He raised his voice, scaring some of the other creatures. Gregory curled into a ball, deploying his sharp quills.

Robotnik raised his fist. "Why couldn't you just follow my orders? You've doomed us all, you accursed hedgehog!" He gritted his teeth. Yet he stopped. It was not Gregory's fault. He knew that. It was his own. Robotnik rubbed his tired eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you." He tentatively reached out and brushed the hedgehog's quills.

Gregory uncurled and sniffed Robotnik's fingers. "I'm just afraid. I don't know what will happen or what I should do. I blew my last chance." He scooped Gregory up. "There has to be some way to fix this for now."

The rent was the first of his bills that was due. He might be able to scrounge together the money for the other bills, but the rent was impossible. Applying for welfare was laughable. Any check they gave would never cover all his expenses. Pleading his case before the landlord would not work. The man was a stickler for owed amounts to be paid on time. Robotnik knew that he himself was neither intimidating nor persuasive enough to change the landlord's mind.

He looked down at Gregory. The hedgehog was trying to right himself. But without the Ball-Mobile, it was extremely difficult for him to do anything. Robotnik wished the hedgehog had it.

Then he had an idea. An idea that slowly formed into a plan the longer he watched Gregory. "I can't be intimidating on my own," he said slowly, setting Gregory back into his cage. "But maybe I just need a little help."

He cleared off a space in the room and laid out a piece of paper. Then he drew a design of the Ball-Mobile, but added legs instead of a wheel. He considered briefly planning for one of his animals to control the machine with him guiding them somehow. However, he knew he could not put them in that kind of danger.

"I'll have to do it myself," he murmured. That would require a complete overhaul of the original idea to fit himself. He had never constructed anything quite on this scale or magnitude. But as he surveyed the finished drawing, he believed he could do it. The machine's scale stood at three times the height of a man now.

Robotnik wanted to create hands for the arms. But when he checked his supplies, he found did not have enough materials for that. To be honest, his materials would barely cover the necessary outline of the machine.

"No use waiting until morning," Robotnik said, rolling up his sleeves. He needed to build the machine as soon as possible. He grabbed his tools, slipped on his gloves, and snapped a pair of grey goggles to his head. "Let's get to work."

* * *

It was a week later during a quiet evening that Robotnik emerged from his house. Nobody has seen hide or hair of him all week. The only one concerned was Clarissa. She had tried to visit a couple of times. He had sent her away, saying he was fine, but incredibly busy.

He had finished his machine and moved it outside. He climbed unsteadily into it. Robotnik checked the arms and legs' movements. They handled well enough. There was no time for an official test run. The rent was due tomorrow, so he had to hurry.

He had considered buying some sort of disguise. Yet with little money, the best he could afford was a pair of blue-tinted glasses lying around the house. He made sure to wear his white work gloves, lest he leave incriminating fingerprints. He kept his goggles on his head and his tools on hand in the machine. One could never know when repairs might be required.

_This will never work,_ he thought as he started down the street. He had known that from the beginning. He was extremely nervous. He was very close to vomiting at the mere thought of what he planned to do. Yet when he glanced over his shoulder at his house, he also knew that he could not back down._ I have to try. For them._ So he steeled himself and soldiered on.

The landlord worked late. Far later than any of the other business owners on the street. _Takes a long time to wring blood from poor stones,_ Robotnik wryly thought. He approached the office in his machine. The lights were off, except for one corner office in the back.

Robotnik lifted one of the machine's round, featureless arms and chopped forward. The arm broke through the tall windows. Immediately an alarm went off. Robotnik turned about, swatting wildly. One of his arms hit the alarm. Its ringing slowed, then died.

The landlord came out of his office. "Who's there?" he asked. Then he saw the machine. Robotnik was high above, hidden in the shadows. The doctor tried to stay out of sight.

Running back to the office, the landlord grabbed the phone. Robotnik crashed through the wall, breaking the lights. Now they were shrouded in near-total darkness. He broke the landlord's phone. Then he backed the man against the wall.

"What-What do you want?" the landlord asked. He was shaking and shrinking to the floor.

"Leniency," Robotnik said, dropping his voice. He hoped he sounded menacing enough to frighten the landlord and unrecognizable. "Leniency for your tenants."

"My tenants?" the landlord said unsurely. When Robotnik came closer, he held up his hand. "Of course, of course. Leniency. Whatever you say."

"Get on your computer," Robotnik said. He stepped back. The landlord rushed to the computer. "Bring up your tenants."

When the landlord did so, Robotnik saw the list of names next to a colored map of the city. Robotnik paused a moment. He could not very well tell the man to cut the rent for his house only. Then he could be tracked. So he ordered the landlord to waive all future rent payments from multiple neighborhoods, including his own. "They own the houses now, got it?" Robotnik said.

"Sure, sure," the landlord said. "It's done." He turned to the computer screen to Robotnik.

Robotnik tapped his chin, wondering if he forgot anything. "If you call the cops or tell anyone about this, I will be back. Got it?" Robotnik smashed the computer and phone.

"Yes, I got it!" The landlord cowered beneath his desk. "Please, don't hurt me!"

Satisfied, Robotnik left. He cursed his machine's slow speed. Robotnik urged it to move faster. He needed to improve the speed later. He did not hear any police sirens on his way. However, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the cops were involved.

_It was a stupid idea_, he thought as he arrived at his house. Robotnik fell out of his machine. His nerves were shot and the rushing sickness returned in full force. He leaned over for a moment, breathing heavily. Then he hid his machine in the backyard beneath some thick foliage. _There's nothing to stop him from calling the cops. Then he'll reinstate the rent. All of this was useless!_

He kicked the back door open and stormed in. Some of the animals chirped, barked, and made various noises. Robotnik hammered on the wall. "Quiet! All of you!" He collapsed at the dining room table. Tesla circled around his legs, rubbing against him. "Not now," he said, shooing the cat away.

_At least I bought a little time. That's better than nothing._ Still, the worry that the police would bust down his door had replaced his fear of the rent. His hands shook uncontrollably. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Robotnik did not sleep well that night.

* * *

The next morning, Robotnik woke up to glorious news. He had received a couple of offers for interviews in his email. Both were for part-time positions, requiring odd hours for poor pay. He snatched them up immediately, replying that he would be in for the interviews that very morning.

_Perhaps things are looking up for a change,_ he thought. He glided into the bathroom and showered. Then he fed and watered the animals, adding in apologies for his behavior last night. "I'm sorry," he said, coaxing a few out of their cages. They were reluctant to come near him at first. "I was under a lot of stress last night. I'll try not to do that again."

After then eating a hearty breakfast, he dressed in his best clothes for the interviews. While deciding what color tie to wear, the doorbell rang. "One moment," he said, deciding to wear his red tie over the black one. He raced to the door.

Clarissa stood there with Petey perched on her shoulder. "Good morning, Ivo," she said.

"Oh, good morning, Clarissa." He tied his tie around his neck. "What is it? Something wrong with Petey?"

"No, Petey's fine," Clarissa said. "I just came to see you. Is everything alright?" She took in his formal clothes. "What's the occasion?"

"Got a couple of interviews," he said. "I'm on my way to them now."

"That's good to hear," Clarissa said, grinning. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," he said. She continued to stare at him for a while longer until he asked, "Is there something else?"

"Well, no. Kind of," she said. "Did you hear about our landlord?"

His throat constricted. His tongue grew fat and heavy. "What do you mean?" he asked. His voice had become incredibly raspy. He coughed, pretending it was nothing.

"His office was smashed up," Clarissa said. "And strangely enough, he excluded me and others from paying rent for the time being."

"Silver lining," Robotnik said, chuckling.

"Maybe, but you didn't see his office. I went by there this morning. It was lucky he wasn't killed."

"After he squeezes us for every cent we have on the dot every month no matter what, you're worried about him?" Robotnik asked, crossing his arms.

"He was only doing his job. Everyone has a boss you know and he has to pay the bills just like we do. Yes, I was worried about him." Robotnik shook his head. He started to feel a little guilty for the landlord, but clucked his tongue. The man and his bosses were well off comparatively. They could stand to take a hit to the wallet. Or at least be more merciful to late payments.

"I was worried about you too," she added.

That jolted him. "Me?"

"You've been cooped up all week."

He shrugged. "So?"

"So, you were recently fi- er, let go from your job. The bills were piling up. And you were out of money and didn't know what to do last time I saw you." Clarissa bit her lip. "You also wouldn't let anyone see you. I started to assume the worst. That you were going down a bad road you wouldn't come back from."

He caught the hinting in her eyes. The realization of her words dawned upon Robotnik. "Oh, no. No, not at all." He shook his head. "I've only been working hard for the little ones. I apologize. I didn't mean to worry you. Everything's fine."

"You sure?" Clarissa asked.

"Very. Thank you for the concern."

She nodded. "If you want to talk or anything, just come by or call. My door's open. I don't want to see you go to a dark place."

"I won't. I promise. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be leaving." He waved farewell to her and strode to the bus stop.

The bus dropped him off a couple of blocks from the first interview. On the way, he made a slight detour to check out the landlord's office for himself. He had destroyed it pretty well. Glass was strewn on the sidewalk and a few police officers were checking the crime scene. One officer was talking with the landlord and taking notes.

Robotnik turned away. His stomach twisted into knots. So the police had been called. They would probably be watching the office for a while now. The landlord would reinstate the rent and Robotnik would be right back where he began. Only now there would be cops after him. He could not make good on his threat. The machine was ill-equipped to handle a police force and their firearms.

"Hey, you!" He leapt into the air and spun around. An officer was approaching him. Robotnik gulped, stepping away. He was about to run when the officer said, "This is a crime scene." The officer pointed at the ground. "Can't you see that?"

He looked down. During his worrying, he had inadvertently stepped into some of the glass. It was labeled as a piece of evidence. Robotnik hopped away from it and smiled. "Sorry, officer." Then he quickly power-walked down the sidewalk.

_I'm going to have to do something about this,_ he thought. _Something soon._

* * *

The interviews went off nearly without a hitch. The only problem Robotnik ran into was that he was overqualified for the positions. He had to plead and persuade desperately that he had always dreamed of becoming a customer call representative and an alarm technician. Both played pretty well to his strength of fixing machines, whether near or far. He was very thankful for that. He received both positions and started work immediately.

A few weeks passed and he heard nothing from the landlord. Everyday he expected a phone call or a letter to arrive demanding the rent. But so far, there had not been anything. He did not dare return to the office. The police presence around there was strong to him. He had no idea what he could do to permanently solve the problem, so he simply waited, hoping the current situation did not change.

Meanwhile, the unusual work hours were really straining his resolve. Some nights, he dragged himself home from one job only to turn around and go clock-in for the other. He was living paycheck to paycheck, hardly making ends meet. He was cranky often and ended up taking his rage out on the animals. He would always apologize afterwards, but his outbursts were worsening by the day.

Then one night, as he was relishing the opportunity to have a full night's sleep for once, he happened upon an injured rabbit. Its rear legs were crushed as if a vehicle had hit it. It was still alive, but in serious pain. Its wounded screams were heartbreaking. He scooped it in his arms and carefully carried it home.

At home, he picked up his mail. Among the letters, he saw the foreboding name of his landlord. His breathing quickened. What he had feared had come at last.

_First things first,_ he thought. He laid the letters aside. Then he placed the rabbit on the dining room table. The rabbit's agonizing cries sent the other creatures into an uproar. He searched through his supplies, checking for the medical equipment and other materials. But he remembered that he had run out of supplies, using most of them to build his machine. With his salary, he had not been able to afford restocking his supplies. So not only could he not fashion some device to help the poor rabbit, but he could not tend to its wounds. The best he could do was bandage the legs.

He found a little antiseptic and applied that. As the rabbit's screams grew, so did the animals' cacophony in their room. Robotnik gritted his teeth. "That's not really helping!" he yelled at the room. But the noise continued.

When one particular crescendo of screeching from the animals made him fumble the bandages, he slammed the table. He marched into the other room. "Shut up! All of you!" The noise died down and they cowered from him. "In case you haven't heard, there's a poor thing hurt in there and I need to concentrate! I'm really tired after working my fingers to the bone for all of you. I'm really in no mood for this! And the longer you yell, the more that rabbit suffers. So pipe down!"

There were a few whimpers from a dog or two, but he had peace. He returned to the rabbit. Once he finished doing the best he could, he put it in a cage with fresh bedding. He gave it food and water, then placed it beside the other animals.

He grabbed the mail and opened the letter from his landlord. _Just as I thought._ The previous month had been waived. Instead, the current rent was the normal amount. It was due in full by the end of the month. _And I have no way to pay it._ He crumpled the letter in his fist.

_Money. Always money._ He was at the end of his rope with all the money being wringed out of him. A great mind like his should never need for money. He should be rolling in it, able to use it to dispense help and enact whatever he saw fit. Like a leader or ruler. _Oh, that would be great,_ he thought, smiling. _If I was in charge, I wouldn't have to care for things like this._ He threw the letter away. _If only I was in charge, I could mold this city, this world to perfection. To better it._

Those dreams were far away for the time being in his eyes. For now, he needed money and fast. He would be paid before the end of the month, but his measly salary would never cover the rent. There had to be some other way.

As he dwelled on the problem, he fed the animals and cleaned their bedding. "I'm sorry again," he said, apologizing to them on his hand and knees. He tried to stroke one of the Flickys, but it hopped away from him. He also tried to pet Copernicus, yet the dog shied away from his hand. Robotnik bristled at the treatment, but calmed his temper. He simply sighed. "It's okay. I've been short with you all lately." He supposed he deserved to be frightened of for a little while. They would come around if he would. He just needed to be more collected and hardier to his plight.

_Hardier. Like metal._ His thoughts drifted to his machine. It was still hidden outside, gathering all kinds of nature and insects. He had considered destroying it a while ago in case the police came snooping around. Yet he could not bring himself to. He figured it might have further use. Now, he wondered if he should use it again.

His position as an alarm technician had taken him to many areas of the city. One sort of area he thought of was the various banks he had been to. He had worked on plenty of alarms in many banks, fixing all kinds of problems. So he knew the basics to circumvent their security if he so chose.

_What am I thinking?_ Robotnik headed to his bedroom. The bed had been relatively untouched for days. He sat down on it. _Am I really considering this? Robbing a bank?_

It was not as if he had not already done anything illegal. After all, the landlord's office was a constant reminder. His hands were jittery and he was sick to his stomach. He would not be hurting one person, but many. And there would likely be security in some other form. Probably armed and highly dangerous.

On the other hand, he could not survive like this. Without money, he would be out on the street within a week. The mourning rabbit in the other room brought up another concern. He needed more supplies. The rabbit definitely could use help and should one of the other animals require care, he would be ill-equipped to give any. He could not let the animals live out on the street either.

_I wouldn't really be hurting anyone,_ he thought after a few moments. _The bank would replace everyone's money, which they could receive at anytime I think. As for the security, many only bother to hire one person. One person that I could disarm._ He shivered. He did not like it. Yet he believed he may be able to handle it. _I'll just go after the ATM. Should be enough cash in there._

_I can do it. It's necessary._ He nodded. _There isn't any other way. _He was sure he exhausted all other options. This was something he had to do. Not only for himself, but for the animals too.

He put on his glasses, snapped his goggles to his head, and grabbed his tools. He dressed in dark clothing and wore a black beanie. Into the night he went. He cleaned off his machine and climbed into it. He tested its functions. The machine worked perfectly. He breathed deeply, then marched down the street.

**A/N:**

**Pen:** I am liking this more and more.

**Sword:** Hold me, Pen. *clings to him*

**Pen:** Do not ruin this for me.

Er, please let us know what you guys and girls think of it so far. Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3: Good Intentions

**A/N: **

**Pen:** *cackles* Now for more.

**Sword:** Pen, you're really scaring me. Let's do something nice instead.

**Pen:** No! Now go ahead and say it.

**Sword:** Robotnik and all related material belong to Sega. Pen and me belong to the author. Where is the author anyway?

**Pen:** Oh, he was becoming a bit too soft, so I…took care of him. To the story!

**Chapter 3- Good Intentions**

Lockheed Bank had many outlets across the city. Robotnik was familiar with their security set-up. He had worked on a couple of their businesses over the past few weeks. It was the same system applied to each of their locations. The one in the middle of the city block he had his eyes on was no different.

There was a security camera overlooking the ATM. It swiveled back and forth, taking exactly ten seconds to turn from one side to the other. Robotnik timed it, counting aloud to himself to be sure. Inside the bank was a lone security guard sitting at a desk and watching a small television.

Robotnik wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his glasses. He steadied his hands on the controls. "Showtime," he muttered.

When the camera turned from him, he strode forward in his machine. He had had no time to work on the machine since his last late night venture. So the legs were still horribly slow. He pressed on as hard as he could. He had to reach the camera quickly.

The camera started to turn back to him. Robotnik cursed his machine's slow speed. He pushed it faster. Just as the camera was about to spot him, he reached it. He sliced at it with his machine's arm. The camera was smashed, but he had caused a lot of noise.

"Who's there?" the security guard yelled. Robotnik gulped. So it had come down to this. He stood near the front entrance. The guard ran out, hand on his pistol.

Robotnik whacked the guard. Down he went, rolling along the street. He lifted his head. When he saw Robotnik, he screamed. "What? What are you?" Robotnik did not say anything. He swung before the guard could draw his weapon. The guard collapsed, knocked out by the blow.

With the dirty deed done, Robotnik returned to the his task. He punched the ATM. He retracted the machine's arm and money poured out. He made the machine crouch and he scooped up as much as he could. The amount was staggering to him. He had never held so many twenties and hundreds in all his life. It could cover the rent, materials, and the animals' care easily.

His hands were shaking again. Robotnik stuffed the money into the machine's cockpit. Then he hurried away from the crime scene. Some of the bills dropped out of the cockpit during his hasty escape. He thought he should bring a duffel bag of some kind next time.

_Next time? I'm already planning to do this again?_ He did not want to steal or hurt anyone. But the sad fact of the matter would be that he may have to rob more ATMs. The rent would continue to come month after month. He slammed his fist on the control console, jerking the machine around.

He soon neared the edge of the city and slowed down. _Oh, how I dream of a day when this is no longer required,_ he thought as he marched down his street. _When I receive my just dues and am on top and in charge, not wholly unlike my grandfather. Someday._ He hid the machine behind his house and carried the money inside.

When he passed the portrait of Gerald, he stopped. _However, there is always someone higher. The only way to overcome that is to be in charge of everything. My grandfather could have brought the world to enlightenment if he had no one to answer to, no one to stop him. As could I. A world where everyone is helped and given the care they need. Where no one is left behind or destitute, human, animal, or otherwise._

He shook his head. Now was not the chance to have dreams of ruling the world like other people did. Now was the time to rest. He shoved the money and tools underneath his bed. Tomorrow, he would order more materials. Then he could help the animals.

* * *

When Robotnik awoke and turned on the news the next morning, he saw Lockheed Bank on the screen. He turned up the volume and sat riveted at the dining room table. A female reporter was standing in front of the wrecked ATM. "The only eyewitness is security guard, Frederick Pole, who had this to say."

The camera cut to the security guard lying on a gurney. He was being loaded into an ambulance. He looked worse for the wear. Robotnik scratched his neck, shamefully glancing elsewhere for a moment. "I heard a loud crash, like someone was tearing the building apart," Frederick said. "I run out and the next thing I know, I'm knocked off my feet by this metal monster."

"Can you describe it?" the reporter asked off-screen.

"It was like-" he paused, "like a giant egg, a monster, on two legs. I've never seen anything like it."

"There you have it," the reporter said. "A giant egg monster. Police are following all leads and ask that anyone with information please call the number below." A phone number appeared at the bottom of the television. "This is Charlize Loom. Back to you folks in the studio."

Robotnik sat back in his seat, unsure what to think about the news. There were so many things to process: the damage, the police searching for him, the publicity. It was overwhelming.

He had little time to dwell on any of it. There was a sharp rapping at his door. "Ivo Robotnik?" It was a harsh, male voice.

"Yes?" Robotnik asked, shutting off the television.

"Police. Open up."

His heart stopped in his chest. His feet were like dead weights and his hands were clammy. His skin became as white as a sheet. He squeaked, trying to answer. "Just a minute," he said. He stood up, glancing around.

The money. He had to make sure it was hidden. He sprinted to his bedroom. Some of his animals woke up, confused as to his hurried antics. As he stomped around, making sure every bill was hidden from sight under his bed, the animals grew wilder. The police knocked again. "Be right there!" Robotnik called. To be on the safe side, he hid his tools underneath the bed as well. Then he quickly changed out of his dark clothes.

When he finished, he ran to the animals' room. He silenced them, then rushed to the front door. He wiped his forehead, calmed himself, and opened the door. Standing there was a detective and a young, uniformed officer. The detective held out his badge. "I'm Detective Pointe, this is Officer Fitz. May we come in?" He was the one who had been talking to Robotnik.

"Of course, of course," Robotnik said. He stepped aside and welcomed them in. "I was just about to have breakfast. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Bagel?"

"Coffee would be grand," Pointe said.

Fitz shook his head. "Nothing for me, thanks."

Robotnik busied himself in the kitchen, setting out a pot of coffee. "What was that racket we heard earlier?" the detective asked.

"Oh, that would be my animals," Robotnik said. He set the coffee to boil and offered the police a seat at the dining table. He sat across from them. "They were a little frightened."

"Sounded like you were running a zoo."

"I feel like I do sometimes," Robotnik said, chuckling. Yet it came off very forced and nervous. He coughed into his hand. "I like to take in injured animals and help them."

"That's very kind of you," Pointe said.

"Thank you. But I assume you didn't come here to discuss adopting one as your own." He was tapping his foot rapidly. He wanted these men gone.

Fitz opened his mouth, but Pointe cut him off. "You're right. We actually came here to discuss another matter. I take it you're aware of what happened to your landlord's office less than a month ago?"

"That is what wrecked," Robotnik said, nodding. He tried to focus his eyes on one person. He did not want to appear shifty. He settled on the detective, but refrained from staring. Staring would only raise suspicions. "Yes, I heard. Good thing he was alright."

"Have you heard about the robbery at Lockheed Bank?"

"I was watching it on the news right before you arrived. Why do you ask?"

Fitz cleared his throat. "We believe the attacker might be the same person." He shirked from Pointe's glare.

"Both eyewitnesses," Pointe said, facing Robotnik, "describe a similar attacker. Some metal monster."

"An egg monster, if you will," Fitz said. He shut up after receiving another look from Pointe.

Robotnik swallowed his tongue. Beads of sweat were sliding down to his nose. "So how can I help you?" he asked.

"We'd like to ask a few questions if that's alright," Pointe said. He produced a notebook and pen from his coat. "Can you tell me where you were on the night your landlord was attacked?"

"I was at home that night," Robonik said. He tried to sound convincing. The detective hummed to himself. He did not like the tone of the hum. "You could ask my neighbor, Clarissa. She'll tell you the same."

Pointe ignored him and continued on. "Where were you last night?"

"Home again," Robotnik said. "Finally got off at a decent time last night. I've been working two jobs to make ends meet and haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks." He feared he had divulged too much. But it was part of the truth. Telling the truth never hurt. _Unless I told the whole truth in this case_, he thought.

"How is your relationship with your landlord?" Pointe asked.

"About as normal as a tenant and landlord can be," Robotnik said, shrugging nonchalantly. He was sure they heard his pounding heart.

"No bad blood between you two?"

_Blood?_ Blood was filling his ears. "None that I'm aware of."

"Do you have an account at Lockheed Bank?"

"Nope. My money is snatched up faster than I can even cash it." Robotnik laughed. Fitz smiled understandingly.

"What do you do for a living? Besides sell animals," Pointe asked.

"Oh, I don't sell them," Robotnik said. "I take them in, fix them up, and give them a home. If anyone wants to take them, they're free to. Once I've made sure they can that is."

"Must eat up a lot of your money."

"A little. But I work two jobs. One as an alarm technician and the other as a customer call representative." He wondered when these men would leave. He did not have work that morning and would really like to cover his tracks thoroughly. The act was becoming harder to keep up as well.

"Ever worked on any alarms as Lockheed Bank?" Pointe was staring into his very soul with those inquisitive eyes.

"M-Maybe I did," Robotnik said. He tapped his thighs. "I work on alarms around the city. Wherever my boss tells me to go, I go." His armpits and brow were drenched in sweat. He thought about excusing himself. Would that seem too suspicious? But they might soon ask why he appeared so nervous.

Thankfully, the coffee maker buzzed. Robotnik quickly stood up. That must have been odd to them. He slowed his movements and calmly walked over to the pot. "How do you like your coffee?"

"One cream, please," Pointe said. Robotnik heard him scribbling in the notebook.

"Coming right up." He poured out the coffee. They had been grilling him for information, but as long as they were here, he needed to find out as much as he could. What did the police know? Were they onto him? "So you think this person- this thing or whatever it is- is the same for both attacks? Based on two people?"

"Well, there's also the shutdown neighborhoods," Fitz said. "We were looking into every neighborhood after the landlord was attacked. But when we found the trail, we narrowed our search."

Robotnik choked. "Trail?"

"A money trail. Led in the direction of two of the neighborhoods. Either our perp is hiding out nearby or lives in one of these two places."

"Thank you, officer. That's enough," Pointe said. He accepted a coffee mug from Robotnik. He sipped it. "Oh, that's good. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Robotnik sat down with his own mug. He drank only a little. His nerves were already shot without adding caffeine to the mix.

"So do you know of anyone around here who might hold a grudge against your landlord or Lockheed Bank?"

He rubbed his chin, pretending to ponder the notion. Then he shook his head. "Can't say that I do."

"Do you mind if we take a look around?" Pointe asked.

Robotnik's stomach dropped into his feet. He somehow raised himself out of his chair. "Sure. I'll give you the grand tour." He accompanied them throughout the house. He was able to distract Fitz with the animal room. The young officer knelt down near the cages and petted a few dogs.

"My daughter would love one of these," he said.

"Well, bring her by and maybe we can work something out," Robotnik said. He turned to Pointe, who was heading down the hall to the bedroom. Robotnik hurried after him.

"This would be my bedroom," he said, opening the door. The detective walked in, appraising the room. Robotnik scooted over to his bed and pulled the blanket on the closest side down further. It grazed the edge, covering the bottom space. "I hope you're able to catch this guy. Sounds like he could be dangerous."

"Oh, don't you worry," Pointe said, gazing at the walls. "We're very able. We will find this egg-monster-man thing. Whatever it is. We're very close. By keeping one step ahead, he'll soon be behind bars."

Robotnik stood firm, but his insides were quaking. He had to push these two along and out of his house. He needed to quickly draw the scent away from him. He was about to offer more coffee to at least get Pointe out of the bedroom. But there was a rumble from underneath the bed.

"What was that?" Pointe asked.

Stepping directly in front of the bed's side, Robotnik shrugged. "Probably the house settling." There was another rumble.

"Mind if I look under there?" Pointe came closer, crouching down.

Robotnik cursed his lack of foresight. Why had he chosen the bed? It was like a child trying to hide something from their parent. _Stupid!_ He stayed in front of the bed, swinging his arms good-naturedly. "There's nothing much under there. Nothing worth seeing."

Pointe was on his knees. He pushed Robotnik's legs aside. The doctor fretted. What should he do? He could not be arrested. Not now. Pointe was lifting up the blanket. Should he stop him? Knock him out? Then the entire police force would be on him, eventually leading to a stand-off where he would be forced to take Pointe and Fitz hostage. Either way, he lost.

At that moment, Tesla scurried out from underneath the bed. The cat hissed at Pointe and ran to the other side of the room. Then a sudden odor wafted into the air. Pointe released the blanket and covered his nose. "Ugh, looks like your cat isn't quite housebroken. Might want to spend some time in that instead of fixing them up."

Robotnik sighed and covered his nose. _I'll have to give Tesla some treats later._ "Yeah, it happens now and again. Bad Tesla!" he said. He shooed the cat out of the room. "Use your litterbox!"

"I think we'll be leaving now," Pointe said. He grabbed Fitz and they headed to the door. "Thank you for your time." He took out a business card and handed it to Robotnik. "If you can think of anything that can help our investigation, call me."

"Will do," Robotnik said. He waved farewell to them and shut the door. Then he collapsed against the wall. That had been far too close. He pried himself away from the small foyer. After feeding Tesla several treats, he counted up the money. He had plenty of money to order the supplies he needed. More than he originally thought. He could improve his machine while he was at it.

_Improve it? As in use it again?_ He did not want to use it again. Sure, it was easy money, but his theft had come with serious repercussions. He thought he should use the materials to build another Ball-mobile. _I could try to pitch it as a freelance inventor._

_But until then_- He gazed out the window into the backyard. Anyone who did not know where to look would not see the machine hidden amongst the fauna and overgrowth clinging to the wooden fence. He bit his lip. _Until then, I have to keep all of us sheltered and fed._

He hid the money and set about ordering the materials he needed. As he completed his orders, someone knocked anxiously on his door. "Ivo?" Clarissa called. She knocked again. "Ivo? Are you in there?"

He opened the door to her. She walked in, a little shaken. "Clarissa? What is it? Please, sit down." He pulled out a chair for her. She took it and rubbed her arms. He sat beside her. "What happened?"

"Had a visit from the police," she said. "They came around, asking questions about the robbery last night and our landlord."

"Same thing happened to me," he said. "Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head. "No, no. I'm fine. They did ask me to corroborate your statements. About how you were home those nights."

"Oh? What did you tell them?"

"The truth. That I saw you home those days in the evening, but that I usually go to bed early." She scratched her head. "That's about all I know."

He nodded and folded his hands. "Good, good." The conversation lulled as she caught his eye. She gave him a hard, curious stare that unnerved him. "What is it?"

"You didn't have anything to do with either of those, did you?" she asked.

His breath hitched. He sputtered, but turned it into laughter. "What? No. Don't be silly." He grinned widely. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know. You've been acting a little off since you were let go from your last job. Maybe I'm just too shook up to think straight." She rubbed her eyes and cupped her cheek in her hand. "One of them was pretty intimidating."

"Detective Pointe? Yeah, I know," he said. "It's okay. No harm done." He patted her hand.

She grasped his hand, squeezing tightly. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Underneath his reassuring facade, he was sick with guilt. He had lied to her. Not only to her, but to the police. He had officially obstructed justice. What had become of him? _Lying to the police, lying to Clarissa, theft, extortion- where does it end? This isn't me._ He had to stop this madness before it continued. He was losing himself to this easy, amoral route.

When Clarissa left, Robotnik tended to the animals. The rabbit was doing better, but was still in pain. He did the best he could and tried to coax the others out again. He failed though.

He slumped to his bedroom and took out the money. He could not go to the bank like he wanted and open an account today. That would be too incriminating. While he gathered the money together, his hands touched something else under the bed. A cardboard box, which he slid out.

He smiled and opened the box. Inside were various gizmos, gadgets, and small inventions he had created throughout the years. He picked up a caved-in device with little bells falling off of it. It was a crude alarm clock he had made for his father. It had never worked properly, always ringing at the wrong times, but his father had appreciated it.

Another invention was a pair of thin, metal extensions for one's feet to give a person a few inches to their height. Robotnik had often used them to reach for the sweets on high shelves when he was younger. Unfortunately, he had never accounted for his large girth as a child. They lied broken in the box.

These were some of the many inventions he had kept over the years. He could not bear to part with any of them, even if like the ones before him, they were broken, useless, or required more repair than was worth it. He had rarely taken apart any of his machines. He had always chosen to salvage, improve, or save them if he could. They were treasured memories, pieces of him that he lovingly poured his heart and soul into making.

They were also inventions that were, mostly, meant to help others. Inventions meant to change the world for everyone in a better way. He sighed and looked out the window where his machine was hidden. What had become of him? Where had he traded that helpful spark for a machine built only for his own needs?

_It was necessary._ Yet he found he could not claim the same for his lies, his manipulation, and the pain he had caused. He yearned to return to creations like the ones sitting before him, ones that could benefit everyone.

Robotnik waited until the dead of night before he went outside. He had his tools in hand and headed straight to the machine. The way he saw it, the machine was a symbol, one of the causes of his behavior lately. If he took that out of the equation, everything would be fine. He could not hope to avoid any more misdeeds as long as the tempting machine was around.

He brought it out of its hiding place. He looked it over as if committing it to memory. _I have to dismantle it. _A part of him suddenly found it hard to do so. It was a safety net and the only surefire way he could continue to survive. That part wanted to improve the machine, take himself to new heights where he was no longer on the bottom of society. This large machine was one of his greatest creations

Before he could become lost in that fantasy, Robotnik took a wrench to the machine. Greatest creation or not, he would not be tempted into more wrongdoing. _What about improving it to benefit others? Maybe as a suit for the disabled? _It was an enticing thought. Yet like the oft traveled path of good intentions, he knew his benevolent ideas would be corrupted down the line.

_Besides, if all goes well, maybe the Ball-mobile could be applied to humans one day by a company with more restraint than I. _So he worked quickly, taking it apart piece by piece. It was difficult. It felt like chipping away at himself with every nut he loosened and every piece he ripped off. Shortly after midnight, he had the machine in several large, scattered parts: head, separated arms, torso split in two, the legs no longer joined, and the feet.

Reason reasoned that he should tear it apart further. On the other hand, his strength and willpower were drained. He could not handle anymore that night. Already, his heart had taken several powerful blows. Robotnik was tired and had work early tomorrow. He would finish the next day and start building a second version of the Ball-mobile. So he dragged the machine's parts into his house. Then he settled down for the night. Sleep did not come easily. He tossed and he turned, sweating in his bed. For hours, he thought of the machine and the desires to both rebuild it and completely destroy it.

In the late night, Robotnik finally did sleep soundly. He dreamed of finishing his new version of the Ball-mobile. But while he was putting the final touches on it, his machine, now rebuilt, stomped on it. Nothing larger than a small shard was left as it stamped on the Ball-mobile repeatedly. As the machine lifted its foot for him, Robotnik saw himself driving it. He could not tell if the other Robotnik looked thrilled or pained. He caught a snatch of a word from the doppelganger. "Necessary."

The foot came down on him, destroying the dream and waking him. He panted heavily. He gulped down air and settled back down after several minutes. Robotnik slept very fitfully for the rest of the night.

**A/N: **How's it going in here?

**Pen:** Wonderful. It is absolutely wonderful.

That's good. All of your out there, thank you for reading. Please, let us know what you think so far.

**Sword:** I got a baaaaad feeling about all this.


	4. Chapter 4: Conscription

**A/N:**

**Pen:** Sword and the author are currently indisposed. I suspect that as soon as this story is over, the author will go back to sappy, romantic pieces. Obviously, I cannot allow that to happen. So from now on, you people will deal with me. If doing these stories is to be my fate, then I will demand realistic, serious drama on this site. Robotnik and all related material belong to Sega. The story, Sword, and the author belong to me, as does my likeness. Now, I give you the next chapter.

**Chapter 4- Conscription**

The materials arrived the next day shortly before work. Robotnik was able to fashion a slap-dash container for the rabbit's legs that eased the pain. It barely allowed the rabbit to move, but Robotnik planned to create a better prosthetic after work.

He was sure he knew of the other neighborhood that the police had mentioned. On his way to work, he scattered a few bills in the neighborhood's direction. Hopefully, the police would be drawn away from him.

The rest of the day, he was lighter. The heaviness in his heart was disappearing and he believed things were looking up for the better. Work was pleasant and smooth. When he came home, he was able to build a fully-functioning prosthetic for the rabbit- whom he decided to call Galileo. The end result was a pair of metal legs in the same design and shape as a rabbit's feet. Galileo was able to hop to his heart's content. In fact, he was able to hop higher than the average rabbit by Robotnik's estimation.

In the evening, Robotnik sat down at his desk and began work on his Ball-mobile. There were a number of improvements he thought of from his experience with the machine. He tried not to think of the dismantled parts tucked away. He would deal with those later.

He worked on the Ball-mobile until he finished it well in the night. Robotnik tried to encourage one of his creatures to try it. While they had forgiven him, only Gregory was brave enough to try it. He ran the hedgehog through the new Ball-mobile's functions, such as increased reaction, speed, and comfort for the occupant. Once he was satisfied with every aspect of it, he put Gregory away for the night.

Before he headed off to bed, he went to the room where he had stored the machine's pieces. Each one was lying there, harmless apart, but menacing when he imagined the whole. Robotnik decided to save its total destruction for another day and turned in to bed.

The next few weeks were much the same. Robotnik almost felt like his life and returning to normal. He went to work everyday with a cheerful attitude that drew some odd stares. The police only bothered him on occasion, simply asking if he had any new information. They did appear to be following another trail besides his.

At night, he would send in his proposal for the Ball-mobile to every company he could find. There were some businesses that he hid his actual identity from for fear of his preceding reputation.

Often, he received rejections from the companies, if any response at all. Yet he kept at it, hoping that someone would accept his invention sooner or later. As the deadline for the rent loomed near, he grew anxious. Again, he would not have the money for the rent, having spent nearly all of it on necessities and materials.

It was during one evening as the month was ending that he sat at his dining room table, going over the possibilities. _If the Ball-mobile is accepted before the month, any check would still have to clear and be sent._ In his experience, companies took a while to clear checks and the postal service seemed especially slow when money was expected.

He was at an impasse as before, with only two options open before him: hoping for the best with his invention or- He glanced at the room where the machine's parts were. He had continued to put off destroying them. Either lack of energy or a fearful urge, as if they might come in handy, had prevented him.

Now, the temptation to rebuild the machine was strong indeed. He cursed his procrastination. The parts were calling him, begging him to be whole again. Though silent, their cries were as yearning as the animals' begging for food.

_It would be easy. So very easy_, he thought.

_Easy does not mean it's right. Easy is not better._

He looked up at the clock. _Tick-tock. _It was nearly midnight. It soon started to tick down another day. Another day he was slowly losing before the rent was due. Another day closer to being evicted.

_Something will come up. It has to._ He was so close to regaining his former life. One free of crime or wrongdoing. Robotnik was sure of it. He covered his head, burying his face into the table. _Don't build it. Don't build it. Destroy them if anything, but don't build it._

_Tick-tock._

_Don't build it._

_Tick-tock._

_Don't build it._

_Tick-_

Robotnik pushed away from table and ran to the room. He grabbed his tools, selected a wrench, and thrust open the door. He flipped on the lights. The accursed parts were in the spots on the floor where he had left them. He went for the torso, dropped the rest of his tools. He raised his wrench high, and hit the chest. The wrench bounced off the exterior, vibrating violently in his hand. He growled and whacked it a second time. Not even a dent was left.

Then with heavy shoulders, Robotnik sighed. _Okay, okay. You win. It-It's necessary I rebuild it._ He dragged one of the machine's arms over and shoved it into the torso's socket. Then he tightened it with his wrench.

* * *

The imposing Station Square Bank loomed high among the lofty clouds. It was one of the tallest buildings in the city. One could see its rooftop from almost any street in the inner city. It was the wealthiest and most used bank around.

_And the most secure,_ Robotnik thought from the seat of his machine. He stared at the bank from far off. There was no chance he would be able to break into it. Stories upon stories of security beyond what he was currently capable of bypassing: trained guards rather than minimum wage grunts, exterior shielding during lockdowns, supposedly trip lasers, and the piece de resistance of thick, heavy vaults.

Without some kind of unstoppable machine or serious back-up, Robotnik would have to settle on the smaller Tetric Bank that he watched from an alleyway. He had worked on one of their other locations, so he was not as familiar with their security layout. He assumed it was the same, with two guards at most, but less security equipment. To make matters worse, he had had little chance to fully test the functionality of his machine after finishing it last night. He had improved the speed a little, but not as much as he would have liked.

_No use worrying about it now. I got a job to do._ He pulled the black beanie down further on his scalp and closed his eyes. _For them and me. Just like before._

The bank had a single camera outside the ATM. It was easy to approach it without being spotted. Robotnik stood up and disabled the camera with his tools. Then he snuck around the side of the building. He expected a security guard to come out soon.

The front door of bank opened. He peered out of the dark corner. There was a guard, hand on his gun. Robotnik almost came out until a second one followed behind. He breathing quickened. So there _were_ two guards.

_Relax, relax. _He calmed himself, slowing down his frightened nerves. _You can handle two guards. It shouldn't be a problem._

One of the guards checked the camera, shining his flashlight at it. Robotnik backed away, slinking into the pitch black shadows. "Looks like this thing is acting up," the guard said.

"What do we do?" the other asked.

"Call the repairman. Leave them a message and they'll fix it tomorrow." The flashlight's beam swiveled around the area, checking Robotnik's hiding spot. The light narrowly missed him. Then it disappeared.

Robotnik slipped back to the corner and leaned out. The two guards had their backs turned. "Should we leave a watch out here?" the other one suggested.

"What's it matter?" the one with the flashlight said, shrugging. "If anyone messes with the ATM, we'll hear them. And if they do, we'll just have the repairman fix that too. Hey, you hear that?"

Without warning, they were struck from behind. They tumbled into the glass doors. The machine trembled as its arms drooped. The console in front of Robotnik flared with lights. _No, no, no!_ He banged on the console's display screen. _Not now!_ The screen told him there was an alignment problem in the arms.

Meanwhile, the guards were rising to their feet. One unholstered his pistol and aimed it at Robotnik. "Stop or I'll shoot!"

Robotnik whacked the console and gripped the controls tight. He had an idea. He pulled back, rearing the machine away. Then he rushed forward, the arms dangling on the side. The guard fired, hitting the leg. The machine buckled, but the arms swung around. They snapped back into place. One mighty swing and the guard was disarmed.

He knocked the guards down again. Finally having a moment's peace, he checked the console's screen. The leg was pierced. _Looks like it's on the fritz,_ he thought, tapping the display.

"Hold it right there!" Robotnik spun around in his seat. There was a third guard at the bank's entrance, armed and talking on a phone. "That's right," he said to the person on the line. "That egg thing is here! You sure you got the address?" Robotnik tried to move, but the guard yelled. "I said 'Hold it!' You may as well give up. The police are on their way."

Robotnik sat back in his seat. He nervously tapped his chin. He had to get to that ATM. His gut told him to flee, to abandon that folly. The guard could very well kill him. But the rent, the animals, the money. He could not leave here defeated and empty-handed. He grabbed his mustache, pulling it hard. _I have to make a decision!_

"Now," the guard said, stepping out from the entrance. He jerked his pistol downwards. "Stand down and put your hands on your head. I don't want to have to hurt you. You have ten seconds, alright? Ten." When the machine's only response was a fizzle from the leg wound, he said, "Did you hear me?"

The machine turned around, stomping its legs. The guard's pistol wavered and he backed off. "What are you?"

"Desperate," Robotnik said. He sprinted toward him, yelling. The guard yelped and fired off several shots. A few struck the cockpit, missing its pilot. Others hit the limbs. As the guard ran out of bullets, Robotnik swatted him. His third foe fell.

Panting hard, Robotnik took stock of the situation. His machine was now severely damaged. It refused to stop wobbling and when he tried walking, there was a delay. He had to shove and yank hard on the controls at that point. He looked at the ATM. It was completely free for the taking.

In the distance, he thought he could hear sirens. Robotnik glanced back and forth between his prize and the distant noise. He was not sure if he would have time to gather the money. After a few seconds, he growled. "I definitely won't be able to if I stand around here like a nincompoop. I have to try." With that, he smashed the ATM. Money poured out for him.

There was more cash there than at Lockheed. He gathered as much as he could carry. He stuffed wads of bills into his clothes, making his bulky body as round as a ball. When he was brimming with money, he fled down the street. Or rather, he waddled as his busted leg kept giving out.

He escaped the scene, but the police were nearby. "Come on," he hissed as the leg buckled again. "Come on!"

A flash of red and blue appeared down the street. The shrill wail was coming toward Robotnik. He searched his surroundings. There were no alleyways to hide in. The police car would be on him before he could reach the next street corner. He certainly could not take them on in his condition.

_Think, Ivo. Think._ He saw a closed electronics shop across the street. Inside were televisions, gadgets, and most notably, a giant robot. Robotnik smiled as a plan hatched in his mind. _Perfect._

His machine was beginning to fall apart. With great difficulty, he turned it to the shop. He took large, lumbering strides across the street. The siren was coming every closer. But as he passed the halfway point, his machine stalled. It tipped over in a lunge, threatening to spill him out.

Robotnik clung to his seat and banged the console. "Not now," he said, watching the police car. "Don't do this now. Move! Move!" He slapped the outside of the cockpit.

That kicked the machine back to life. Slowly, Robotnik dragged himself to the storefront. He about-faced and stood the machine upright, raising its arm in a welcoming manner. Not a moment too soon for the police car drove right by. It passed him and swerved onto another street.

Before he could ask "What was that?" a blue streak followed the police car. Following a second later was a very strong, gusty vortex that kicked up trash in the street. _Sonic._

Robotnik dropped his machine's arm. It died briefly a second time, but another good smack woke it up. Hoping his luck would hold out, he headed for home.

* * *

The rest of his getaway was much the same. The police seemed to be out with a large force intent on catching him. Robotnik stuck to the shadows and patiently snuck around speeding squad cars and sturdy police barricades of several vehicles. It was nearly sunrise when he returned home. He hid the machine in its regular spot and quickly patched the leg, afraid its sparks might draw attention.

Inside his house, he hid the money in his pantry, making use of any innocuous empty boxes and cans he could find. When he finished, he pulled off his beanie and slumped to his bedroom. Along the way, he passed by the animals. As soon as they saw him, they raised a stir, begging for their breakfast early.

"Would you all shut up?" he roared. "I've been out all night for you ingrates! The least you can do is let me get a bit of sleep before going to work!"

He collapsed onto his bed, lamenting that he would have to be up in an hour. Try as he might, he could not fall asleep. He kept thinking about the robbery and how close he had been to getting caught. _I need to upgrade the machine. Give it hands at least._

Robotnik decided he would keep the machine intact this time and continue to use it. _Until I can sell the Ball-mobile, there's nothing else I can do. No point in debating this anymore. The machine stays until everything is through._

The machine also needed some kind of weaponry. _Weapons? Are you planning to kill people?_ He argued for the weapons in the name of defensive capabilities. _Better speed too. Perhaps some an escape pod in case things get too hairy._

But he was still left with the biggest problem: he was only one man. One man against security guards of every shape, kind, and number strength. He might not be lucky the next time. There could be a larger security team or the next guard could be a firearms expert. Whatever the case, he needed to level the playing field. Robotnik did not trust anyone enough to bring them in on his operation. So short of duplicating himself, he was alone.

He laid on his side and watched the clock. Forty-five minutes until sunrise. Outside the open window behind the clock, the rosy tinge of morning was filtering through the dark sky, breaking up the dark clouds and replacing them with fluffy, orange ones. Robotnik willed himself to go to sleep, but he could not keep his eyes closed for long. As soon as he had shut them tight, he had opened them to watch the clock. He kept expecting the police to bust down his door and arrest him at any moment.

Half an hour before he was supposed to wake, he saw a pair of ladybugs fly in. He lazily shooed them away and they landed on his clock. Robotnik followed them, too tired to actually put them outside. Within moments, a beetle joined them, touching down on his clock. _Need to close my window before every bug makes its home here._

But he stayed in bed, watching the three. The ladybugs flickered their wings, standing stock-still. In response, the beetle charged aggressively and tackled one of the ladybugs. The other jumped onto the beetle's back and they tumbled off behind his clock.

Robotnik thoughtfully looked at where they had been. On his dresser was the Ball-mobile, sitting on its side. When he squinted his bleary, tired eyes, it appeared to be the bottom of an insect.

_Maybe-Maybe I could create a partner, _he thought. It would not be terribly difficult. After all, he had created his yet-unnamed machine. A smaller, faster version to compensate for his stronger, heavy nature would be perfect.

The main problem lied in its control. He needed a person to control his robots. He could attempt to create one that did not need an occupant, but that would require a complete overhaul of the design, expensive parts, and a territory he had not branched out into often. _I couldn't control it directly. I'd have to split my attention and I'm already too occupied during the robbery. But if I left it to be automated, it would be slower and take longer to decide what to do._

He needed someone or something to control any robot he built. His mind wandered to Gregory and the other animals. He feared to put them in harm's way. _Then again, this is for their benefit._ He was not a one-man army. Robotnik needed help. It was as simple as that._ If we hope to survive, they have to pull their weight. I can't do this alone._

Soon, his clock's alarm went off. He rose and headed to the animals' room. He did not bother to speak to them and instead merely filled their dishes. He did pull Gregory out though and stroked his fur. "Sorry for earlier," he mumbled. "Hey, I'm going to need you for a big job soon. Think you can do it?"

Gregory sniffed his fingertips. Robotnik took that as a "Yes" and put the hedgehog back in the cage. Then he made himself breakfast.

* * *

Over the next several days, Robotnik worked tirelessly throughout the night. He patched up his machine and ordered parts to build some hands. He also picked up some materials he thought he could use to put in defensive weapons to his machine.

While he waited for the parts to come in, he modified the Ball-mobile's design. Starting from scratch, he built a full-round ball with a wheel. Like his machine, it had fingerless arms. Yet its arms ended in sharp points rather than blunt nubs. He added red paint to the backside with blue spots, and blue on the head, deciding that he would need to be able to spot Gregory in the dark. He did not want to step on the poor hedgehog accidentally.

A better inventor than he was a painter, the end result was a sleek, deadly Ball-mobile that looked like a child had painted it. The glowing, neon green angry eyes and fanged teeth did not help matters. Robotnik had tried to make it appear intimidating. He eventually chalked it up to a lost cause and left it as is. He did install an engine in the back hatch under the shell, complete with exhausts on the side to help Gregory move faster. On top of the head, he attached a pair of yellow antennae that functioned as radio receivers so he could command Gregory.

He tested the antennae when he finished building it. "Testing, one, two," Robotnik said, tapping a microphone. He cleared his throat. "Sega. Syllabus. Testing. Test, test."

When he was satisfied with the quality of the signal, he fetched Gregory. He opened the device and tried to put Gregory in the comfortable seat inside. Yet the hedgehog fought to escape. He stabbed Robotnik's hand, causing the doctor to drop him. "Yeowch! You little pest!" He grabbed Gregory by the quills and forced him into the seat. "Now get in there and calm down. I'm trying to save us and you're going to help me, like it or not!" Several Flickies squawked in the other room. "Quiet down in there!"

Robotnik closed the casing and set the creation on the floor. Then he picked up his microphone. "Gregory, come to me." The device sat there for a few moments before it tentatively rolled forward. "Good, good. Now turn around." He also checked Gregory's ability to move and slash the arms. Robotnik laid the microphone aside when he was through.

"I suppose I should name you something else besides Ball-mobile," he said, putting the creation back on the table. He took Gregory out and set him aside. "How about the Moto Wheel? Nah. Or the Moto Bug?" He rolled his head from side to side. "Hm, better, but not very threatening. I'll think of something else later. For now," he said, facing Gregory, "you'll be piloting the Moto Bug. Got it?"

That afternoon, his orders arrived. He immediately set to work putting together a defensive bumper to repel attackers. While he built the device on the kitchen table, he watched the news. During the week, his latest caper had been the talk of the town. One of the guards had seen him despite his dark clothes. With that piece of information, the media had dubbed Robotnik "The Eggman". He hated the moniker. It was humiliating compared to before when they simply described his machine as egg-shaped.

"Police are still searching for the mysterious Eggman, trying to determine any significant patterns in his behavior," a reporter said.

"Robotnik!" he growled, attaching the casing to his weapon.

"Earlier, the police commissioner spoke about the Eggman attacks and she had this to say."

Robotnik gritted his teeth. _Of all the stupid names they could come up with, that has to be the worst. My machine doesn't look that much like an egg. Neither do I._ He rubbed his stomach unsurely. _Well, when I'm done, my machine will look more terrifying and scare people off. That's for sure. No more of this egg business._

He returned his attention to the news, catching the tail-end of the commissioner's speech. "We're establishing a mode of operations for the culprit at this time," an older woman said from a stage. Cameras flashed nonstop and there were a dozen microphones before her podium. "At this time, we are pursuing several leads and are looking into potential suspects. That is all."

That set Robotnik to thinking. The police might be staking out any and all ATMs from that point on. But there were no other avenues open to him. Places like jewelry stories would only be good if he had a way to sell the jewelry and Robotnik knew nothing about fencing.

_People would also be hurt._ It was true that, while the stores would be insured, a theft would deal a blow to business and their insurance payments. People like him would suffer. _No, I have to stick to the banks. But if they _are _watching the ATMs, I'll need a new target._

Turning off the television and stroking his mustache, he considered the vaults. They were loaded with money, but would put up heavy resistance. No doubt there would be some kind of mechanism to trap any thieves as well. Although the rewards were far too enticing.

He rummaged through his materials. _Maybe I can assemble a welding torch or flamethrower of some kind. Something that could cut off the hinges and then pry it open. Or maybe I could burn through it and have the machine punch its way through._ He added the ideas to his documented design.

_Knock, knock._ "Who's there?" Robotnik asked.

"It's me, Clarissa. Can I come in?"

"Just a minute." He snatched a tablecloth and covered his work area. Then he ran to the front door, opening it. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Everything's good."

"That's good," he said, waving her in. Petey was chirping on her shoulder. "Hello to you too, Petey."

"He misses his friends here," she said.

"Oh, well come this way," Robotnik said, smiling. He led her to the animal room and opened the Flickies' cage. "Hey there, guys. Guess who came back to see you." But the birds stayed huddled on the other side of the cage. Robotnik laughed it off and placed Petey inside. A blue Flicky nipped his finger. "Ouch! They're a little bitey today."

Clarissa raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. "So, how are your jobs going?"

"Great, great," Robotnik said. "Yeah, really well. I think I'm getting into the whole routine. It was a little stressful at first, but I'm better now."

She nodded. "Okay. I was worried. You seem like you haven't been getting much sleep."

"Oh, I've just been working hard. That and the customers at work can be difficult to handle. But a little coffee and I'm right as rain. Speaking of which, I could use some. Can I get you a cup too?" He hurried to the kitchen and put out a pot to boil.

"Sure, I'd love some," she said. Her eyes were drawn to the kitchen table and its odd assortment of lumps. She started to lift up the tablecloth. "What's under here? More machines?"

"Yeah," he said, taking two cups down from the cupboard. "Some little things I'm working on. Don't take off the cloth!"

She released the cloth, eyeing him. "Why not?"

"Because," he started, turning around. He hung his head from sight. "Because when they were delivered, some chemical spilled and corroded parts of them. I'm trying to dry it off and save what I can."

"Oh, okay. Sorry."

He shook his head. "No, no. It's alright." The coffee boiled and he poured it into the cups. He badly wanted to bash his head into the counter. Once again, he was deceiving her and he felt awful about it. _I have to do it. Can't let her find out what I'm up to._

He passed her a cup and they silently sipped their coffee for a while. "Well, I'm glad things are going well for you," Clarissa said. She reached into her pocket. "I actually came by to give you this if you were interested." She handed him a business card with a number scrawled on the back. "A friend of mine is looking for a technical assistant. The pay isn't great, but the hours might be a little better."

Robotnik studied it, noting it was for a computer store. That would be up his alley. "Thank you. I'll be sure to check it out. So, how've you and Petey been?"

"Good. His wing is still doing well. Yesterday, he flew around the house for hours. Had a hard time catching. Thanks a lot." She chuckled.

"Well, you can't claim I don't give you your money's worth," he said, smirking. "So how's work going for you?"

She took another drink. "Good. As good as can be."

"Something happen?"

"Kind of," she said. "They're planning to raise our health insurance at work. Take more out of our paychecks for it."

"Couldn't you opt out of it?" Robotnik asked.

"I wish I could, but it's required." She finished off her coffee and set the cup down. "It's not being put into effect until next month, so I don't have to worry about it until then."

His mind was already traveling down the kitchen and to the pantry where he had hidden the money. As he drained the last of his coffee, he wondered if he should give her some. Normally he would without hesitation, but the circumstances were anything but normal. She would ask questions. Questions he may not be able to answer. He quickly thought of her most likely reactions and inquiries, formulating a lie for each and every one.

Steeling himself and trying to play everything off nonchalantly, he said, "I'll be right back." He headed to the pantry, working out the particulars of his lies along the way. _Sold a few smaller inventions and got advance payments. A company bought a few patents. Leftover money from a family member's life insurance. _All viable and all requiring that he rid himself of the queasy sensation in his stomach.

He grabbed several hundred dollars, tightly shut the pantry door, and went back to Clarissa. "Here," he said, handing her the money.

"Wha-What's this?" she asked, holding the bills completely dumbfounded.

"Sold a few small inventions to a company. They gave me an advance payment."

"I couldn't accept this," she said, trying to give the cash back.

He held up his hands. "Take it. You need it more than I do."

"It's your money. You might need it."

"I'll just sell them some more inventions," he said, bracing himself. He feared his smile would waver, destroying the charade. "I think they'll take me on soon."

"But your animals-"

"Are fine for now," he said.

She bit her lip, searching for another excuse. "This is far too much though."

"Then keep it for the month after as well." He closed her fingers, wrapping the money in her fists.

Out of excuses to refuse, she threw her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Awkwardly, he patted her back. She was shaking a little and there was a sudden cold spot on his shoulder. "You're welcome."

When she released him, they talked for a while longer before she left. She took Petey with her and they bid Robotnik farewell on their way out. He leaned against the door once they left. Everything had gone well. He was in better spirits than he had been that morning.

_One good deed does not excuse your terrible others,_ his mind reminded him. He bristled at the notion. It seemed that no matter what happened, today was determined to sour his mood. _Of course I know that. But look, some good can come of this._ Sure, it was only one particular instance that happened to fall into his lap. Yet he would take that and run with it all the way. _If I had plenty of money, I would give her as much as she needed. Her and everyone else who needed it. _He smiled at his noble ideal. Robotnik could picture himself in the future, powerful and sharing his fortune with the world.

Returning to the table, he ripped off the cloth and continued to build the weapons. By nightfall, he had an assorted array of defensive items that should help, including the bumper. He installed them on his machine. "Tomorrow," he said, nodding at his work. "Tomorrow, we can hit a vault."

**A/N:** Hey! We're still here!

**Sword:** Yup! I even snuck in an Easter Egg for a Sega game! See if you can spot it!

Not now, Sword. We don't have much time. No need to worry. We'll take care of Pen. In the meantime, please let us know what you think of the story so far. Now c'mon, Sword. Let's get out of here and get ready to take back control.

**Sword:** Yeah! En garde!

Agh! Don't hit me!


	5. Chapter 5: First Encounter

**A/N:** Hey! It's us!

**Sword:** Hi!

Shush! Pen's on the prowl and I think he knows we've escaped. We'll be in touch, but for now, enjoy the story.

**Sword:** Oh, Robotnik and all related material belong to Sega. The story belongs to the author. And me and Pen belong to him too!

At least I still hope. Anyway, have fun reading.

**Chapter 5- First Encounter**

Robotnik was on edge all day. The end of his shift could not come fast enough. When work finally ended, he raced home. Once there, he checked and double-checked his machine and the Moto Bug. Everything seemed to be in order. The new hands on his machine could solidly grip objects, the weapons deployed automatically for the tiniest hint of trouble, and the Moto Bug zipped around easily.

Since work had not been busy, he had had time to select a target: Hampton Bank. It was larger than the other locations so far, but he knew its layout. There was a vault in the center, ripe for the picking, with enough money to last for months. He had built a special compartment into his escape pod on the machine for holding all the loot he intended to take. He may be able to even give up this lifestyle for a while.

Security would be tough though. Last he recalled, several guards regularly patrolled the place at night.

He went to his closet and rummaged for his dark clothes. While searching, he happened upon a red jacket, stitched with golden, octagonal pieces. The pieces and arms were trimmed with white lines and the arms ended in two dull yellow cuffs. It was his grandfather's ceremonial jacket. Gerald had worn it when presented with a prestigious award for his scientific efforts early in his career. Since then, it had become a family heirloom and was passed down to Robotnik when his parents died.

Robotnik took the jacket out and held it up to himself. It was about his size, although he did not feel like he deserved to wear it. _Maybe one day_, he thought, putting the jacket away. _One day when I make you proud._

He grabbed his black clothes and changed into them. Then he fetched Gregory and put the hedgehog into the Moto Bug. The sun was setting, so Robotnik ordered Gregory outside. The Moto Bug had a little trouble descending the steps outside the door, bouncing down to the ground clumsily. But it was relatively unharmed when Robotnik inspected it.

As the night fully took over, Robotnik settled into his machine. He turned it on and took out his microphone. "Ready, Gregory?" he asked. The Moto Bug moved back and forth a little. Robotnik checked that he had his tools and that the machine was running smoothly.

"So, it is true," Clarissa said. Robotnik turned the lumbering machine around. She stepped out from behind a tree in her yard, Petey perched on her shoulder. "You're the Eggman."

_Great. _He was caught. There was no way out, so he hung his head and nodded. "Yes, I am. I didn't mean for you to find out."

"I thought about it last night and your story about the money smelled a little rotten. But this. All this time." She shook her head. Then she held up a wad of money, her mouth twisted. "So the money you gave me is a score from your heists?"

"I was trying to help," he said.

"I don't want your kind of help," she said bitterly, throwing the money at him. "Keep it." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I trusted you."

He gaped at the money, then at her. She turned to leave and he reached out. "Clarissa, wait."

Petey flew toward him, chirping angrily. "Petey, no!" Clarissa said. She ran after him as he pecked on the chassis of Robotnik's machine. Suddenly, two slots opened in the torso and a pair of barrels appeared. _Oh, no,_ was all Robotnik could think before jets of fire erupted from the barrels, engulfing Petey.

"Petey!" Clarissa screamed. The fire caught her arm and head. She cried in agony, falling to the ground and rolling around.

Robotnik quickly switched off the weapons and climbed out of the machine. "Clarissa!" He fell to his knees beside her, patting the fire and throwing clumps of dirt and grass on it. After what felt like hours, the flames died and her screaming stopped. She just laid there in the yard, clutching one side of her head. Her arm was a deep red and she refused to open her eyes. She simply cried, moaning at the slightest movement.

"Clarissa?" Robotnik asked. She murmured something unintelligible. He helped her sit up and propped her back against his leg. He had seen some bad injuries, but this was one of the worst. He shook, his mind scrambled on what to do. "Don't worry. I'll call an ambulance."

"Don't…" She said, mumbling again.

"You need one. You're hurt bad." He tried to lift her up, but she pushed him away.

"I don't want your help!" she said, groaning and inhaling sharply. She winced and rolled aside, still holding onto her head. He could see that only small patches of hair remained on that side of her scalp. She stood up wobbly and bent down to scoop up what was left of Petey's. The remains were charred and reeked of a horrible stench.

"Clarissa, wait."

"No!" She rounded on him, dropping her arm. The upper right side of her face was burned bright red and glossy in the moonlight. "You're a criminal!"

He came forward. "I'm only trying to help."

She turned around and walked away from him. "You don't help. You only kill," she said, looking down at Petey. "Don't ever talk to me again."

With that final note, she was gone. Robotnik stood in his yard for the longest time, unsure if he should follow or not. He wanted to see if she was alright, but she had probably called the cops by then. If she had, he would need to run and find another place to live.

For that, he needed money. _I'll hit Hampton, come back, get my things, and split,_ he thought as he climbed back into his machine. He glanced forlornly at Clarissa's house. _I'm not a killer. She's wrong._ Then he said to Gregory, "Come on. We have work to do."

* * *

The Hampton Bank was in the middle of the street, muscling aside the neighboring apartment buildings. That was the one aspect that Robotnik had not liked about this particular outing. There was a higher possibility for witnesses. Someone could call the police at any moment. Or maybe they had already answered Clarissa's call and were on their way. He spun around quickly, expecting Clarissa to step out of the shadows and thrust her burns in his face.

Robotnik shook his head. _Get it together. Focus._ There was a significant chance the police would be called, so he had to move fast when things started.

Inside, he saw the guards walking to and fro. They were thorough in their patrols, covering every inch of the place. Robotnik would not be able to quietly take a few out as he had hoped. He would have to go in loud.

"On my mark, Gregory," he said. The Moto Bug wheeled forward beside his feet. _Let's do this. _"Now."

Together, they rushed toward the bank. Robotnik punched open the front door, setting off the ringing bell alarms on both sides of him. He ripped the alarms off the wall and hurled them at two guards. They fell and their guns went off.

"It's the Eggman!" a guard shouted.

_Really hate that name._ Robotnik picked up the screaming guard and threw him into the teller's booth. Two more guards shot at him from nearby. Robotnik pressed a button on his console and electricity crackled in the air around him. Suddenly, a net of blue lightning arced in an encompassing sphere, with Robotnik in the center. Then the net expanded outward, shocking the two guards. They fell in a bundle of spasms and violent shaking on the ground.

He checked his console. The electric field had to recharge for a few minutes after each use. _There was my freebie._

The two that had the alarms thrown at them tried to stand, but fell to their knees behind some desks. "Agh! What is that?" one shouted.

"It sliced me! It sliced me!" the other said. "Watch it!"

"Good work, Gregory," Robotnik said. "Keep going."

The guard from the teller booth ran up to Robotnik, firing his pistol. Robotnik picked him up and held the struggling guard before the ones who were no longer shaking on the ground. _Planning to use him as a shield?_

He shivered. _I'm not a killer. _"Drop your weapons," he said.

Reluctantly, the guards complied and Robotnik turned to Gregory, who had scared off the others. "Gregory, take their weapons." The Moto Bug sat there, staring at him. Robotnik growled and shouted, "I said 'Take their weapons'! Now!"

Slowly, the Moto Bug wheeled over and flung the weapons away. Robotnik threw the guard into another and knocked out the remaining guard. Now the vault was his.

The vault's large column sat in the center as he remembered. He deployed a small welding torch, burning through the large metal hinges of the door. When the hinges were melted, he pried off the door and entered the vault.

As he had thought, oodles of money was inside, waiting to be taken. He hopped out of his machine and loaded his cockpit up with money and other valuables. "Gregory, come in here and help me!" he called. The Moto Bug stood next to the doorway, watching him work. Robotnik grumbled and stowed some of the money in the Moto Bug's shell. "You could be helping me. This benefits you too." He stared at its glowing eyes and waved it off. "Forget it. I'll do it myself."

When the vault was completely raided, Robotnik climbed back into his machine. "Time to go," he said to Gregory.

"Why not stick around for a while? I could use the practice."

Robotnik looked toward the destroyed entrance. Standing against the light pouring in from the street lamps was a blue hedgehog standing with his arms crossed. "You," Robotnik said.

"It's Sonic!" one of the guards said.

"The one and only," the hedgehog said, rubbing his nose. He eyed the guards picking themselves up. "Why don't you guys get out of here? I'll handle this. So you're the Eggman, huh?"

He grumbled. "Step aside, hedgehog. I don't have time for you."

Sonic shrugged. "I can make this quick then. Unless you're willing to put the money back."

Robotnik looked down at Gregory. "Get him!" The Moto Bug bolted forward, slashing its arms. Sonic jumped aside, but Gregory turned on a dime. He came again, swiping at Sonic's legs. Again, the hedgehog dodged the attack.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Sonic said. He jumped into the air, curled into a ball, and landed on the Moto Bug. It rumbled and dizzily wobbled around. Then Sonic aimed for Robotnik. As he neared the doctor, the electric net appeared. The shocking field stopped Sonic cold, making him fall and spastically flail on the ground.

"So much for that," Robotnik said. He walked over to Gregory and tapped his shell. "Come on. Let's go."

"Gotta say, I'm pretty 'shocked'." Sonic was up, his limbs twitching. "Haven't had a decent challenge in a while."

"Persistent little pest," Robotnik muttered. He dashed into the street and checked his console. His electric field had barely recharged. He would have to try another tactic. _He's fast, but cocky. Maybe I can use that._

Like the wind, Sonic rushed by Robotnik and blocked every which way the doctor tried to run. "Come on, Eggy. Is that all you got?"

Robotnik stopped and faced Sonic. "You know, I'm actually disappointed. You don't seem like you're as good or as fast as everyone says. I bet you can't even hit me." In his microphone, he whispered orders to Gregory. "Get behind Sonic. Around ten yards and raise your arm high."

"Oh, you better believe I'm that fast," Sonic said.

"Then try to hit me." Robotnik grinned as Sonic crossed his arms, head tilted indecisively. "Or are you too afraid to fight me?"

"Nope, but you can shock me if I get too close."

"Oh, but surely you can get by me if you try."

In the blink of an eye, Sonic was speeding toward Robotnik in a curled ball. The hedgehog hit the machine's chest hard, throwing Robotnik off-balance. Immediately after, a section of the chest popped out, repelling Sonic. He flew through the air, heading straight for Gregory. The Moto Bug's sharp arm slashed Sonic's leg and he collided into the ground. He hissed and held his leg to his chest.

"Hurry! Take him down!" Robotnik shouted to Gregory. "Don't let him get up!"

The Moto Bug wheeled over to Sonic, curiously watching him. Sonic gritted his teeth and stood up, leaning on his good leg. "Get him!" Robotnik ordered. Yet Gregory refused to act. He turned around, sitting there like an inobedient child. "Fine. I'll take care of him!"

There was a sudden whirring of sirens behind Robotnik. Several police cars were pulling in quickly. He lurched for Sonic, but the hedgehog rolled around on the ground. "Stay still!" he said, reaching for him. He deployed his flamethrowers, cutting off Sonic's escape. When the hedgehog tumbled back in surprise, Robotnik snatched him up and held him in front of the machine with both hands. The police had their guns trained on Robotnik. Sonic struggled in his grasp, jerking back and forth wildly.

"Put him down and surrender!" a cop on a megaphone said. "You have ten seconds to comply!"

"Could really use your help," Robotnik said to the Moto Bug. It refused to move, stubbornly sitting there and gazing up at him. Robotnik fumed and held Sonic with one hand, facing the cops. "You want him? Take him!" He punched Sonic square in the face, dazing him, then threw the hedgehog at the police. Sonic disappeared behind a squad car.

The police were distracted long enough for Robotnik to make his move. He rushed forward, flamethrowers blazing and setting cars on fire. He swatted aside cop and vehicle indiscriminately. He hurled the cars into storefronts and punched the officers into walls.

During his destruction, a blue blur rammed into his legs. The machine collapsed on one knee and Robotnik nearly fell out. He turned around to see the Moto Bug approaching, arms raised. The curled ball that was Sonic aimed for the robot smashed it.

"No!" Robotnik scrambled over to the Moto Bug. Sonic revved up and took another shot at Robotnik. He did not care as Sonic drilled a hole through the lower body of the machine. He needed to get to Gregory.

"Please be alright," he said, digging in the wreckage of the robot. He found a tiny body and pulled it out. He turned around toward the destroyed cars still burning for light. Gregory was panting rapidly in the machine's hands, eyes closed and quivering. Robotnik needed to get home and help the hedgehog.

"You monster," Sonic said. He had his arms crossed and was tapping his foot. "You don't care who you hurt, do you? Animals or humans." He nodded at the injured police, then at Gregory.

"Don't presume to know me, you meddling pest," Robotnik said. He tucked Gregory into the cockpit of the machine. "I'm doing the best I can in a bad situation. You can only abuse a dog so far before he fights back."

"You're rabid," Sonic said, spreading his feet. "I need to put you down before you hurt anyone else."

Robotnik raised the machine's fists and swung at Sonic. The hedgehog ducked and revved up faster than before. Zipping to Robotnik, he sliced the machine's legs in half with his spines. The body crashed onto the ground. Robotnik tried to move the machine, but could only flail the arms.

"Give it up," Sonic said, walking towards him, "before you do any more damage."

He swung again at Sonic. "Stay back!" Then he pressed a button on his console. The cockpit detached from the rest of the body and soared high into the air. Sonic gaped at the flying, bowl-like carrier before jumping onto a street lamp. He tried to climber higher, but when Robotnik cleared the buildings, the cockpit's engines kicked in. He flew away, disappearing into the night.

* * *

At home, Robotnik hid his cockpit in the backyard, ran into the house, immediately laid out his medical supplies, and tended to Gregory. The hedgehog appeared relatively unhurt, save for minor scratches. Robotnik was thankful for that. He bandaged what he could and left the hedgehog to rest with some food and water.

Afterwards, he started to pack, gathering up all his supplies and pets. With his machine destroyed, he would need another means to move his things. He could rent a moving truck, but no place was open right now. He could borrow one and return it. Yet he also needed a destination.

He unloaded the money from the cockpit of his machine. _With this, I could go anywhere and hide out. We should be fine for a while. It'll be enough to hold off until I get a better job. _Maybe he could leave the country, start anew elsewhere.

His nerves were shot at the loss of his machine. He lamented it and his near capture. Nothing had gone right today. He could hardly think. Robotnik smacked his forehead. He needed to focus if he hoped to evade the police. He was surprised they had not already raided his house. But he was sure Clarissa must have called them.

_Knock._ Robotnik jumped, turning to the door. Who was it? The police? Sonic? "W-Who's there?" he asked. He checked the doorway, finding nothing amiss. He looked outside his peephole and saw no one there. "Must be my imagination." For safety's sake, he shoved his desk drawer in front of the door.

Tesla meowed from atop his computer. "I don't have time for you right now," he said. But the cat meowed again and hopped onto his keyboard. "Hey, hey!" He picked up Tesla and set the cat on the floor. "Shoo. Go eat or something." He had to focus. He had to pack and leave. Robotnik cursed today's draining events.

However, Tesla's jumping had woken up his computer. On the screen was his email inbox and there was a reply from one of the business he had sent the Ball-mobile proposal to. It was hardly the appropriate time, but Robotnik was so excited and needed something good to concentrate on, that he sat down and opened it.

"Dear Mr. Robotnik," he read aloud, then skimmed the rest of the lines. It was starting out like the numerous rejection letters he had already seen. Familiar phrases like "Thank you for your proposal" and "While this does pique our interest" stood out to him. But what stopped Robotnik cold in his reading was the last paragraph. The company said that the Ball-Mobile was too similar to another upcoming project, the Animal Aide.

Robotnik quickly searched the internet for this new project. When he found it, his insides turned to mush. He was on his former company's website. There, sitting in the middle of the page, was his Ball-mobile design, captioned with the title, "The Animal Aide can help your pet achieve the mobility they used to have." Next to the picture was a public demonstration date for a few months from now and a projected release for next year. There was also a small press release from Hughes that delved into some of the functionality.

He turned away from the computer, his arms trembling. They had stolen his idea? But how? They had thrown him out with his things. This was his personal project. One that he had been working on at home. So how-?

_The parking garage._ Robotnik recalled that night and how he had dropped the Ball-mobile. Clarissa had not been able to find the device because they had taken it. _Hughes._ Hughes had taken it. He was the only other one there who would have known its true value.

Yet that did not explain how they were able to successfully duplicate Robotnik's work. _Unless_, he thought, spinning back to the computer. He searched the website for any other information on the Animal Aide. Eventually, he came across the Animal Aide's lead developer: Dean Vane. The same squat Dean who had worked beside him now beaming at Robotnik from a photograph while holding the invention. _His_ invention.

Robotnik ran his fingers across his scalp, digging into the skin like he was trying to crack open his mind and make himself process the information. He could not. It was unbelievable. But the evidence was staring him in the face with a large smile.

Suddenly, it happened. All at once, his senses were dulled, but heightened in a peculiar fashion. All noises were muted, except a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He saw nothing before him, yet could pick up the tiniest pixels on his computer screen. He was vaguely aware that he was numb all over, but could grip his chair tightly, feeling the arm rests bend. His tongue was fat and lazy, yet tasted the cool air as his mouth hung open.

There was a muffled laugh, as if someone were outside his house. Where was it coming from? It grew louder. The person was closer. Robotnik soon realized the laughter was coming from him. He laughed good and heartily, tears pricking his eyes. He took off his glasses and wiped them away, but they kept pouring down his face. He stood up from his chair, looked at the computer, and guffawed harder.

The animals were squawking, barking, and generally confused by the laughter. Robotnik continued to experience chortles that rolled his great belly. He walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, and threw it at the computer. The monitor fell to the floor, flickering with a crack in its screen.

Robotnik grabbed another chair and smashed it into the wall. He was left with two wooden legs ending in points, which he used to raid the living room. He beat pictures, stabbed furniture, and anything else he could with the legs. He attacked his kitchen, banging on the refrigerator and stove. In the animals' room, he kicked over food and water dishes, screaming incoherently at everything. In his bedroom, he upended the bed and toppled over his dresser, seething like a wild beast. He grabbed clothes out of the closet and tore them to shreds. Nothing seemed to satisfy him.

At one point, Robotnik lost control and could not remember what further destruction he caused. But the next thing he did know was that he was holding onto Gregory and walking toward the animals' room. When he entered, he stepped carefully around the spilled water.

He took a few minutes, standing there silently in the doorway and thinking things over. _They have to pay._ He stroked Gregory, despite the hedgehog's spines pricking his fingers. _They have to pay._ He smiled. _Of course they have to pay. They ended up using my invention, so I should get some kind of compensation._

Robotnik raised his head and studied the animals before him. "We're moving," he announced. "But we're not leaving the city just yet. Oh, no, no, no." He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, can't leave without getting paid. Tindell, Hughes, Dean- the city as a whole is long overdue."

He set Gregory down in a cage. "And we can't leave the city in this state. If we hope to change the world, then it must start right here, right now. There is a need for a new order. A new system that makes sure nobody is taken advantage of. To make sure this never happens again. To any of us. But we'll need some more helpers to pitch in if we're going to do it." He clapped his hands and laughed again, the last of his tears falling to the floor.

**A/N:**

**Pen:** Hey! You people have seen those other two, haven't you? I demand you tell me where they are!...Fine, be that way. Then at least let me know what you think of the chapter. Meanwhile, I have two people to search for.

**Sword:** *whispers from the side* Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: Vengeful Showdown

**A/N:**

**Pen:** Come out, come out, wherever you are!

**Sword:** *sneaks around behind Pen and jumps him* I got him! I got him!

Good! Hold him while I get the rope! And do the intro!

**Sword:** What? Oh, uh, hi peoples! Ugh! *hits Pen* Robotnik and all related material belong to Sega! The story and us belong to the author!

**Pen:** No, they do not! Let me go!

**Sword:** Enjoy!

**Chapter 6- Vengeful Showdown**

Robotnik was able to procure a moving truck and load all his important belongings in it. By the time the police arrived to ransack his house, he was long gone with his animals.

However, he did remember to set aside some of his loot in a small bag. He laid the bag on Clarissa's doorstep before turning away for good.

He scouted out a scuzzy, dilapidated store in the city that was long abandoned. It was fit to be condemned, with its bricks falling out, dust-covered windows, and the foul stench of garbage. But it would serve Robotnik's purposes well for the time being. No one would expect to find him here.

He moved his belongings inside the store's basement and cleaned out a space for the animals down there. Then he set to work rebuilding his machine. Over the next several weeks, he ordered parts from all over, tinkering with his machine's design by upgrading it with plenty of armor and weapons. He would constantly redesign and test the machine, wanting it to be perfectly capable of defeating any adversary when he next used it. _Like Sonic._

In between waiting for his orders to come in and building, Robotnik further cleaned his "home" and drew up plans for new robots to help him. One was a flying robot that resembled a wasp, which he dubbed "Buzz Bomber", while another was a spiked caterpillar called "Caterkiller". He had thought that last one clever and chuckled to himself the rest of the day about it. He upgraded the Moto Bug with a better shell to protect against attacks and increased speed. "Should help you fly around," he said when finishing the new model in front of Gregory.

Others were created, each keeping with the motif of animals or bugs, like the Ball Hog or the Newtron. He made time to catch other animals as well, whether they were sick, hurt, lost, or feral. Soon, he had a decent army at his disposal, ready to be outfitted with his latest creations.

Gregory's disobedience during his last heist had caused Robotnik to alter the Moto Bug's, and every other robot's, design. While the robots would still be powered by the animals, he would program to robot to follow his commands instead of relying on the animal's free will. It did sacrifice speed, but it beat the alternative.

Yet during his first test of it with a particular green Flicky, he paused before inserting it into a Buzz Bomber. Robotnik looked at the struggling, frightened creature and was reminded of Petey, then Clarissa. He thought of how he had hurt her, destroying his friendship with the pair. Then the echoes of what Sonic and she had called him reared their upsetting heads. _Monster. Killer._

He refused to be labeled as such. He would _not _be labeled as such. Robotnik put away the Flicky and spent the rest of the day adjusting the Buzz Bomber. When he tried to test the robot again, the Flicky put up a stronger fight. It continued to squirm when it was in its cushioned seat until small puffs of gas jetted from either side of the inner chamber. The Flicky's eyes drooped and it lulled in its seat.

Robotnik stroked its feathered head. "Sleep well," he said, shutting the case. The Flicky would now be in a deep sleep, nourished and healthy, yet all the while unaware of any crimes it would be committing. Maybe it would help balance what he had done to Petey. He hoped so.

He switched on the Buzz Bomber and it flapped its wings, emitting a low-pitched buzz. Robotnik ordered it over to him and the robot obeyed. "Now attack that target," he said, pointing at a painted block he had set up. The Buzz Bomber hovered over to the block and halted in mid-air. The tip of the its tail lit up, charging a ball of energy. When the energy was large enough, the robot flung the ball into the block, breaking it into pieces.

"Hm, slight pause for the energy build-up," Robotnik murmured, jotting down some notes. "Nothing I can do about it for now, but I should look into it." He tapped the Buzz Bomber's antennae. "Seems the radio signal is working. Good."

All the other robots were run through similar tests as he checked their functionality, weaponry, and movement. He made subtle tweaks to each one, dragging out his preparation a month longer than he wanted. But that was fine by Robotnik. It meant he would be ready just in time for the Animal Aide unveiling. However, at one point, he created robots to help him build the fighting robots.

"We'll show them what true animal prosthetics are capable of," he said. He chuckled as he worked and thought about Hughes, Dean, and all others cowering before him.

* * *

The day of the Animal Aide demonstration was cloudy, with promises of sun later on. Although nobody sensible trusted the weatherman, so they bundled up for rain. The demonstration was set to take place in the city park.

Robotnik had been pleasantly pleased when he found out the demonstration's location. The park was next to city hall and a couple of blocks from the Station Square Bank. He thought he was in prime position to kill several birds with one stone. He would hit the park, rob the bank, and then establish his new society with the heart at city hall. It would almost be too easy.

He had excavated a lot of room in the store's basement to hold his new machine. He admired its towering height as it lay on its back, ready to be deployed. There was no longer hiding his true identity from the public, not when the police knew. So he had painted the machine's covered cockpit with a likeness of his face. The rest of the machine was still a metal gray, but it would do.

Today was a monumental occasion and his created minions were nearby, waiting for their orders. _Today, the name Robotnik shall be legendary._ He turned to his small cot in the corner where he slept. On the cot was his grandfather's jacket. Robotnik picked it up and slipped his arms into it. _Today, I will make you proud, Grandfather. You and the rest of the family._

The jacket was a rather tight fit. Robotnik had trouble zipping it up. He huffed and sucked in his stomach, barely able to close it. _Note to self: get this resized_, he thought, rubbing his stomach.

At least he had taken his pants into account. He had bought some new black ones for this day. They ended in boots topped with silver accents. Robotnik slipped on the pants, attaching their silver buttons near the waist to his jacket. _That should help hold it._ Then he slipped on his gloves, his goggles, and tinted glasses. _Showtime._

He climbed in his machine and started it up. "Hm, I still haven't given this thing a name yet." He glanced out the cockpit, looking at his other robots. None of their thematic names seemed to match the weight that his machine held. "Maybe the Botnik Bot? No, too silly."

His eyes were drawn to the rebuilt Moto Bug. "How about the Botnik-mobile? No, it doesn't sound right." He continued to stare at it as the machine started up. "The news has continued to call me the Eggman," he said, rubbing his chin. He still hated the name, but if that's who they were expecting, then perhaps the Eggmobile? "The Eggmobile," he said aloud, testing the word.

It did not quite fit. _Maybe the escape pod could be called the Eggmobile_. _But this could be the Eggmobile with added accessories._ He looked over the side and nodded. Yes, that would do for now. It certainly did fit the occasion.

The console controls lit up his grin. "Yes, the Eggmobile." He pressed a button and the machine stood up, breaking through the floor of the store. He jumped through the store's roof and landed on the street.

"Jumping is okay," he said. His machine topped the two-story stores lining the streets. Beneath him were people gawking at him like miniature toys.

Robotnik turned to the people below and stepped forward. Then he turned on the Eggmobile's microphone and adjusted it for everyone to hear. "I am Doctor Robotnik, whom you people call 'The Eggman'. I am here to right the wrongs of the world, starting with this city."

They continued to watch him, unsure what to make of the monstrosity. "I suppose a demonstration is in order," he said. Robotnik raised one of the Eggmobile's fists to a building. The fist popped out, crashing into the building and leaving a large hole. Then the fist retracted on a thick pole into its socket. Inside the building, people were backed up to the other side of the wall.

He flipped his microphone back to the channel for his army waiting below. "Robots, move out." There was a great rumble like hundreds of cars were underground. Then the robot army poured out of the store's hole, swarming as upset ants would against a predator.

Immediately, the people on the streets fled for their lives, screaming at the top of their lungs. The robots largely ignored them and accompanied Robotnik as he lumbered down the street. He had traded mobile speed for height and holding weapons. He did not like it, so he had installed boosters in his legs.

He deployed the boosters, which flipped out of compartments behind his shins. They powered up and drove him forward at top speed. He barreled down the street with the whooshing sound of a jet crossed with an off the rails locomotive. His feet tore into the asphalt, kicking it up in front of him like a wave.

As he neared the park with his army, he was amused to already find a small police blockade. He stopped in front of the officers, who stood looking at him, baffled as to what to do. Finally, someone in the blockade raised a megaphone and said, "Shut off your machine and come out with your hands up."

Robotnik nearly laughed. But he humored them and crouched with his hands raised. A few of the cops approached him. When they were close, he jumped into the air and landed on one of the squad cars.

"Open fire!" someone shouted. The police fired on the Eggmobile. But their bullets did little more than graze its surface.

"Stay back, boys," Robotnik said to his army. "I'll handle this." He activated a section on the console. A large, square hatch on the Eggmobile's chest opened up and bouncing, gray orbs tumbled out. They exploded softly in the middle of the blockade, covering the area in a putrid-yellow gas. One by one, the officers were knocked out until the blockade was clear.

"Pleasant dreams," Robotnik said. Then he marched forward, stepping on the rest of the cars.

Within minutes, the park was in sight. The demonstration was already underway, with a packed audience gathered to watch. Dean and Hughes were on a constructed stage, displaying the different functions and applications of the Animal Aide as Tindell sat behind them. There was an assortment of injured animals on the stage. Robotnik was momentarily distracted by the animals with an old yearning to run down there and help them. But he had a job to do and couldn't afford to be stopped by anything.

Soon, he was standing over the demonstration. The audience looked at him, then the robots scuttling to them, and ran. Dean and Hughes tried to escape, but Robotnik dropped a bomb in front of them. This one exploded with a mighty blast, leaving a small crater in the ground.

"Leaving so soon?" Robotnik asked. "But I came all this way to see you. Even wore my best outfit."

"Ivo?" Dean said.

"Ivo?" Hughes asked. He concentrated his brows tightly. His mouth opened into an O. "Ivo Robotnik? W-What do you want?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Robotnik saw Tindell quietly sneaking off. He grabbed the old man and dropped him with the other two. "I just want compensation. The Animal Aide was my idea after all."

"What are you talking about?" Hughes said. He jerked his head at Dean. "Our people came up with it."

"Don't you dare lie to me!" Robotnik shoved his painted face into their frightened ones. His compartment opened, another bomb at the ready. "I know what I built." His hands slowly surrounded them. "I know what you did."

"Okay, okay," Hughes said, gulping. His eyes flicked back and forth between the massive hands and the bomb. "You're right. It was your invention. I'm sorry. _We're_ sorry, aren't we?" He nodded his head emphatically to Dean and Tindell. They joined him and did their best to appear remorseful. "Let's talk about it. Try to work out some kind of deal. Perhaps we can reach an amount to pay?"

Robotnik leaned back and his compartment closed. The trio clutched their chests, slumping into relaxed poses. "That is very good of you. Very good. And it's a start." He picked up the three. "I'll collect the check later. First, I have to make a withdrawal. Then I'm going to expose you three for the scheming, thieving worms you really are when we visit the mayor!" A small slot opened on his shoulder and he dumped the three men inside. "Hold on tight. This can be quite bumpy."

"So can falling." A sudden force collided into Robotnik's back, knocking him forward a few steps. Behind him was Sonic, standing in the middle of the park. Police were surrounding the park, but Robotnik's army was keeping them from getting too close.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would show up," Robotnik said. "I think you'll find this time you're outnumbered." He spread his hand out over his army. A group of robots were approaching Sonic, cutting off any escape. "You may as well give up now, hedgehog."

Sonic rubbed his nose and grinned. "Sorry, but I don't know the meaning of the phrase."

"Then let me explain it to you," Robotnik said, lifting his giant foot. "One!" He tried to step on Sonic, shaking the ground. But the hedgehog was jumping into the trees. "Syllable!" Robotnik swung at the tree, his arm shooting through the trunk. He missed his target, only shattering the trunk. Sonic continued jumping around, dodging the blows. "At! A! Time!"

Robotnik bent over too much, allowing Sonic to kick him in the head. He reeled back, but balanced himself. "Thanks for the English lesson," Sonic said. Then his face darkened and he stood with clenched fists. "Now I'll offer you this chance only once. Leave the city alone for good."

Robotnik laughed. "Not on your life. I'm not going to let this city continue its unfair ways. Not that a lauded 'hero' like you would know." He nodded at his robots that had encircled Sonic. "Hold him down."

Sonic leapt over one of the Moto Bugs, landing on the head of a Buzz Bomber. The robot collapsed under the weight and Sonic curled into a ball, building up speed. He smashed through several robots, breaking them apart. The animals inside woke up and began making noise. Sonic scooped them up and carried them away from the battle before returning for more.

The hedgehog was too fast to keep up with. Robotnik deployed several bombs in a circle around him, expelling their gas. Sonic avoided the gas, whirling around it to make it dissipate. Robotnik expelled the bombs faster, covering the area below. Soon, Sonic slowed down enough for a Caterkiller to catch him with its barbs. Sonic fell over and laid on the ground, coughing hard.

At once, Moto Bugs held their sharp arms to his throat and Buzz Bombers were poised to launch their energy balls at Sonic if he moved. Robotnik grinned and raised his foot. "It's too bad you won't see the better world I'll create. Goodbye, Sonic the Hedgehog!"

Something smacked against his cockpit. Robotnik looked up and saw a flock of Flickys from the group Sonic had saved attacking him. He waved them away. "Shoo, you pests! I'm on your side!" They continued to fly around his head, blocking his view.

He swatted wildly at the birds, finally driving them off. When he did, he saw that Sonic was up and had destroyed more of his robots. In fact, a good third of his army now lay in broken pieces before him. The police were closing in with each destroyed robot and he could hardly keep up with Sonic.

"Get him, you idiots!" he shouted at his robots. But the robots were too slow, even in their combined might. Sonic easily dodged swipes, energy balls, and stabbing lunges from all sides. He smashed through robot shells, emerging from each of the cases with a tiny animal in hand.

After carrying several animals to safety, Sonic raced up Robotnik's leg, running for the head. Robotnik smacked his body, narrowly missing the hedgehog. When Sonic reached the top, he jumped off. Robotnik clapped his hands, trying to catch him in between. But Sonic rushed forward in a ball, escaping the hands. He crashed into Robotnik's cockpit, knocking the doctor back onto one leg.

Before Robotnik could regain his balance, another hit to the torso toppled him. He fell into the corner of a building and collapsed on the street. Warning lights from all angles of the cockpit lit up. Robotnik ignored them, rubbing his aching head. He refused to give up. Not here, not now. _Not to some blue rodent!_

He roared and grabbed onto the side of another building. He tore a section out of it as he used it to help him stand. Then he zoomed forward with his boosters toward Sonic and unleashed his bombs. Explosion after explosion rocked the park. Trees, grass, and robot parts flew into the air, blocking his vision. But he would destroy the hedgehog if he had to blow up the entire park.

Sonic appeared from the mass of destruction in front of him. Robotnik aimed for him and followed close behind. Sonic led him in circles around the park, never straying into the streets or other sections of the city.

Gunfire struck Robotnik's backside. He growled and briefly turned to the police, shooting his arm at them. But Sonic sliced through the cable and the arm fell off. Robotnik and abandoned the police. To him, their presence was insignificant. Sonic was the true threat.

He was running low on bombs and yet Sonic was still running as fast. He had depleted his boost and was losing his quarry. Robotnik stopped and ran sideways to cut Sonic off. He missed and Sonic dashed past him.

As Robotnik turned, his leg shook several times and buckled beneath him. He checked his console. The display of his Eggmobile said the leg was missing. "Missing? What do you mean 'missing'?!"

He hopped on one leg and looked down. There was his leg, cut off at the knee with wires sticking out and crackling with electricity. Sonic had managed to cut through it. _But how?_

Robotnik soon had his answer. Sonic rushed at the Eggmobile with blinding speed. He was curled up into a ball, but appeared nearly flattened. His fast spinning had turned his quills into a makeshift buzzsaw that sliced deep into the other leg at the foot. Robotnik toppled sideways, his foot snapping off. He was left to hobble on his two stumps, barely holding himself up.

"Give it up," Sonic said, landing on the ground. "You lost."

This hedgehog had bested him. This hedgehog had kept him from what he deserved, lording over his broken machine in the middle of a destroyed, burning park. It was not fair. He couldn't give up. He wouldn't give up and let this continue. "Curse you! Curse you all!" His compartment opened and the last of his bombs flung through the air. "Curse you, Sonic the Hedgehog!"

The explosions were deafening. Dirt was kicked up all over, obscuring his vision. Everything was fire and debris, with no sign of his army, the police, or Sonic in sight.

When the dust settled and the last of his bombs had been spent, Robotnik looked out over the park. The landscape was little more than several craters culminating into one deep dip. On the sidelines were the police, all training their guns on him. Most of his robots had been destroyed, the animal occupants safe and sound elsewhere.

A few robots roamed aimlessly around. One was a Caterkiller with its head smashed open. Inside was Tesla, meowing for help. Another robot held Copernicus, who barely lifted his head.

But the one that caught Robotnik's eye and gripped his heart with fear was the Moto Bug nearby. Inside was Gregory, who was no longer moving.

"Gregory!" Robotnik pulled himself over to him. He carefully scooped the hedgehog out. "Gregory, can you hear me?"

"Give up and we'll get him some help," Sonic said, dashing up to him.

Robotnik swiped at Sonic and growled. "Get away from me! I'll never give up!" He put Gregory in his cockpit, quickly grabbed Tesla and Copernicus, and detached his cockpit. "This isn't over! I will be back!"

"Oh, no, you don't!" Sonic leaped into the air and hit the bottom of the flying cockpit. It shuddered, its engines faltering for a moment. But Robotnik held the machine together and he zipped away into the sky. Meanwhile, the police and Sonic assisted Hughes, Dean, and Tindell out of the Eggmobile.

* * *

Across the sea on the edge of Station Square, Robotnik found a secluded island. It housed an abandoned research station that consisted of one small, grey building. He landed his cockpit, rushed inside with Gregory in his arms, and found a medical room. Within minutes, he had the hedgehog lying on a small table, hooked up to an EKG machine and had administered all the proper medication he could find lying around. Now it was a waiting game.

Shaking his head, Robotnik slumped in a chair. Tesla coiled an affectionate tail around his leg. How could this have happened? How could everything have gone so wrong? All the work he had put in, all the long hours gone in the blink of an eye. His vengeance ruined, the world unchanged, his own life worse than ever. Robotnik felt like he was at the bottom.

Perhaps he should give up his current path. It had nearly cost him Gregory and others. His actions could have killed them.

_No, not mine._ Robotnik scowled. _Sonic did this. Sonic and the city that backs him._ They were the cause of all his suffering. He could not bow out now, not when they had hurt him deeply. No, now, more than ever, Robotnik had to be strong in his resolve and continue until he won.

The EKG's beeping picked up in intensity. Robotnik raised his head and ran to the table. Gregory's eyes were open in tiny slits. "Hey there," Robotnik said, rubbing the hedgehog's belly. "Good to see you're doing alright." Seeing that he was alright strengthened Robotnik's drive to continue forward.

Gregory tried to roll over, but Robotnik set him back in his place. "Rest for now. We have a lot of work ahead of us. We will have our revenge and they'll regret the day they crossed me."

**A/N:** Well, we managed to do it.

**Sword:** No thanks to him.

**Pen:** *sits in the corner, tied up and gagged* Mmmf!

**Sword: **Yeah, yeah.

We hope you enjoyed it. Please, let us know what you think.

**Sword:** *grins evily* Hey, Pen! En garde!

**Pen:** Mmf! Mff!


	7. Epilogue: End of the Beginning

**A/N:** And here we reach the final part of this story. We did run into some problems along the way-

**Sword:** *holds up Pen, handcuffed to her*

-but it's fine now. So without further ado, Robotnik, Sonic, and all related characters belong to Sega. Sword and Pen belong to me. Please enjoy.

**Epilogue- End of the Beginning**

Robotnik surveyed the vast sea from the second story of his laboratory. Up above, the sounds of drills, welders, and loud construction were incessant. Robots of all sizes and shapes were working, adding another layer to the building. It was already impressive compared to the state Robotnik had found it in, with a sleek, gray design and turrets on the corners of the rooftop.

Dozens upon dozens of mines lay embedded in the ground, visible only to those who knew their location. Further out, the sea splashed into the island. The blue waves were never-ending, always crashing on the rocks, always trying to reach him, trying to swallow the craggy foundation of the island and stop him.

He looked away from the window and turned up the volume of the television in the ceiling corner of the room. Then he picked up a pencil and continued work on a blueprint. Tesla purred and nuzzled against Robotnik's shins as a female anchor stood in front of Station Square Park on the television. Tall trees overshadowed everyone in the background and the grass was perfectly cut. "It may be hard to believe now by looking at it, but it was only ten months ago that our beloved park was destroyed at the hands of Ivo Robotnik, AKA The Eggman. But thanks to support from the local community and everyone's favorite hero," the screen cut to show Sonic standing alongside the mayor and waving, "the park has been restored in full." Robotnik snapped his pencil in his hand and ground his teeth. "Mayor Bloomberg has planned a celebration later this afternoon, so I'll see you down here, Jim."

The screen switched to an anchor in a studio who smiled. "I'll try to swing by," he said.

Robotnik grumbled and grabbed his protractor and another pencil. He flattened his blueprint on the table and drew several lines. "Enjoy it for now. I haven't forgotten what you people did."

"Dr. Robotnik." A small, thin teal droid rolling along on treads entered the room. "The prototype head is done."

"Good, good," he said. "I'll be right there." The droid nodded stiffly and left the room. Robotnik set aside his pencil and picked up a nearby cage. Inside, Gregory lapped from his water bowl. "Ready to see your new suit?" Robotnik asked him. The hedgehog blinked at him. "I promised you would run as fast as Sonic one day. That day is close at hand."

He walked out of the laboratory, carrying the cage under his arm. On the table, he left the blueprint as it was with several drawings of a chassis and the internal configuration of the design. A stray sea wind blew in, flapping the corner of the blueprint's title: "Metal Sonic v1.0".

Robotnik entered a grandiose room down the hall, filled wall to wall with robots and factory lines. Day and night, the machines worked tirelessly, pumping out all his creations. Lined up far below in a floor below sea level, an army of machines waited for their master's orders. Robotnik leaned on the rails of the walkway above the work area and grinned.

"Oh, yes. Our day is close at hand," he said. "We shall rise up. This isn't over, Sonic the Hedgehog." He gripped the rail, wringing it tight in his hand. The droid returned, carrying a blue head, with round, pitch black eyes, a pointed nose, and a gray mandible. "Far from it."

He picked up Gregory and inserted him into the head. He snapped it shut and waited. Slowly, the faintest light flickered on in the eyes, growing brighter until they were as red as Robotnik's outfit. "We've only just begun."

**A/N:** And that's the end. Hope you guys enjoyed it.

**Sword:** Now let's get back to romance stuff!...Where's Pen?

Uh-oh. Er, while we look for him, please let us know what you thought of it.


End file.
